Howard's Odyssey
by northernbullet
Summary: Vince disappears, and now it's up to Howard to set off on a dangerous journey to help his friend...
1. Letter

**A/N I wrote this to cheer myself up after hearing that Gary Numan is playing at the Boosh Festival in Kent...living in Australia is so tragic sometimes! This is my first attempt at a story where stuff actually happens other than just emotions, lol. Not quite sure if this one works, but if you guys like the first chapter then I'll keep it going. It's set to be a bit of an adventure story, with fluff and angst - everyone's favourites - along the way. Flashbacks in italics. Rated T for language at this stage, and possible other things later (without giving anything away!).**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Not even in my hemisphere. cries**

* * *

"Be-bop, skibbily be-bop, doo-wap di wap…"

Howard was feeling good. It was Sunday evening, and Naboo was shutting up shop for tomorrow's public holiday. Howard couldn't remember the last time he and Vince had gotten a day off together. Usually their free days were planned on a rotating schedule, something Howard would have normally appreciated for its organizational efficiency, but Naboo usually got Bollo to write up the roster, and somehow Howard ended up with much less time off than Vince did. Tomorrow, however, was wide open for the both of them, and Howard was celebrating by dusting off his LPs and skatting like only a true maverick could.

"Skibbety doo-wap wap…"

Howard needed a break from the shop. More importantly, though he'd never admit it to Vince, he needed some free time with his best friend, time which wasn't rudely interrupted by customers or stocktaking or Naboo's disapproving stares.

Working at the shop had gotten in the way of a lot of things. It forced Howard into a superior role (because as stoned as Naboo could get, he wasn't out of his mind enough to trust Vince with anything other than customer service), and though Howard liked the responsibility, it meant that he had to keep Vince in check and give him orders all the time. Vince wasn't too good at receiving orders, and usually their working days ended in arguments. They'd been arguing a lot, recently, over stupid things; punctuality and sales records and pencil cases. Howard's organizational side would clash with Vince's "anything goes" mentality, and inevitably they would push each other within an inch of walking out the door forever.

Only 'forever' wasn't really a threat, thought Howard. That was the thing about him and Vince. They could attack each other all day long at the Naboutique, slinging insult after insult, threat after threat; so that any passers-by would assume that the two hated each other. And yet each night after they closed up shop, they'd walk upstairs into the flat and enter a new timezone, a new world. The stress from the working day would fade into nothingness with a cheeky grin from Vince, or a witty retort from Howard, and in no time at all they'd be falling easily into routine; caught up in a Satsuma fight, or a crimp session, or simply lying back on the couch and lazily flicking channels, comfortable in each other's silences. Every night, Howard would curse himself for feeling the beckoning drowsiness of sleep, dragging him away from those comfortable silences and closer towards another grumpy day at the shop.

Howard loved the night time.

"Skippety dippety doo-wap…" Howard absent-mindedly checked his watch; eight fifteen. Vince was due back any minute with movies from the video store on the corner. The two had struck up a deal at closing time; Vince was to pick up the videos for their Colobus the Crab marathon that evening, and Howard was to take care of dinner. Howard was pleased with that result, mostly because he knew that all Vince could "cook" was fairy bread and ice cream sandwiches, and they'd already eaten them three times that week. No sir, Howard was cooking a proper meal, a hearty meal, a roast dinner fit for a man of action such as himself. Funny, he thought, cooking for Vince. Almost like preparing for a date. Except not. Obviously.

"_Howard? Do you have to go to work tomorrow?"_

"_Yes, little man. Lots to be done."_

"_Howaaaaard. Don't go. Let's just both sleep in tomorrow, and then you can drive me to the Topshop sale in town, yeah?"_

"_Vince, I'm not missing a whole day of work just to drive you to Topshop."_

"_Aw, c'mon Howard, it'll be genius. We could get ice cream and eat it on that big Ferris wheel by the river, just like in the movies!"_

"_No can do, Vince. Naboo's depending on me. Just because you've got the day off again doesn't mean I can just abandon all my responsibilities just to follow you around all day."_

"_But it'd be mental! We'd be able to see everything from up there!"_

"_Not a chance, little man. Work is work. It's your day off; go by yourself, you'll have fun."_

"_It's not as much fun if you're not there...it's not really fun at all."_

Howard's Mingus LP was skipping – the trumpet solo warping, cutting through his thoughts. He re-set the needle and checked his watch again; eight thirty. He sighed. Just like Vince to get caught up on the most simple of tasks. The electro boy was probably having a conversation with another feral animal. Great. Any minute, he'll come sauntering in with a bat, a rabbit and a family of pigeons in tow, expecting the chef to feed them all too. Picturing the scene, Howard grinned in spite of himself. Somehow even in the most aggravating of situations, he managed to feel a warmth towards his friend. Sure, Vince knew that, and manipulated it to his own liking, but frustratingly that made Howard feel even warmer.

Twenty minutes later, and the warmth in Howard's gut was slowly being replaced by a dull frustration, which was in danger of morphing into anxiety rather than the more comfortable and familiar anger. Feral animals or not, there was no way it could take Vince this long to get back from the video shop.

"Naboo? You heard from Vince?" Howard yelled down the hall.

"Nah" came the shaman's distant reply from behind closed doors.

"He's been gone ages."

"What? What pages? Have you been going through my stuff again?"

"I said, he's been gone ages!"

"Oh. Howard, calm down, you ballbag. He's not a puppy. He'll be back soon."

Howard sat down on his bed, feeling a little foolish. Why was he getting so worried? Naboo was right, he was always right. Vince was just delayed somewhere. He'd be back any minute, pounding that tell-tale knock into the front door, forgetting his keys like he did every single day.

Only, he wasn't. He wasn't back in five minutes, or in fifteen, or in half an hour. Howard began pacing up and down the hall. His anxiety had blossomed into fully-fledged panic now, being held back from hysteria only by Naboo's calming presence in the room. The tiny shaman tried to talk some sense into him.

"Howard, come on. You know Vince. He's an idiot."

"He's not an idiot!" Howard yelled, surprised at himself.

"Yes he is."

"Well yeah, you're right I suppose."

"I know I'm right. Vince is an idiot and I'm sure he'll turn up eventually with some story or other. Maybe he forgot what videos he was looking for and decided to go from A-Z, who knows."

"I wouldn't put it past him, actually" conceded Howard, slowing down his pace for a moment, before picking it up again. "No. He knows Colobus the Crab better than he knows himself. He couldn't possibly – that's it, I'm going out to look for him."

As Howard made a move for the door, Naboo stood in his way, folding his arms determinedly like a parent, a look which was surprisingly convincing for someone who was half Howard's height.

"Howard. Calm down. You're being a tit. Give it a little more time – if he's not back in another twenty minutes, I'll send Bollo out for him. Alright?"

"Alright, fine" Howard conceded, flopping back heavily onto the couch as Naboo trudged downstairs to check on the shop.

To keep his mind off things, Howard began envisioning the verbal assault he would launch on his friend when he finally waltzed into the flat. He could see it now; Vince unperturbed and jaunty as always, protesting his innocence while Howard berated him for all the worry he'd gone through. Have to watch the words, though, he thought; don't want to come across like a nagging wife. Already done the cooking. No, he thought, I'll just come at him like a beam, like a ray, like a northern –

"It's Vince!" came Naboo's lisp from downstairs. Howard jumped up in a flash, relief flooding through him and making him light headed. Already he felt like a complete idiot, worrying over nothing, and yet the impulse to ditch his attack on Vince in favour of a hug was strangely compelling, especially since he hated being touched.

Bounding down the stairs two at a time, Howard swung into the shop.

"Vince!"

But Vince was nowhere to be seen. It was just Naboo, standing by the front door, holding a piece of paper. Howard looked around, confused.

"Naboo? Where's Vince? I thought you said –"

"Howard, you better sit down."

The maverick felt his insides turn to icy water. He tensed his muscles and blinked. His mouth felt dry. "No. What is it? Tell me. Where's Vince?"

Naboo sighed, and held up the piece of paper for Howard to see. "This was slipped through the mailbox."

It was all gibberish to him; a mess of lines and squiggles. He frowned. "Naboo, I don't…"

"…this is Darxeetish, Howard" interrupted the shaman. "It's a language from Darxeeta, a planet in Xooberon's solar system."

"Can you read it? What's it say?" Howard babbled, his voice reaching a girlishly high pitch, though he was too wound up to be embarrassed.

"Yeah I can read it. It's a ransom note."

"A ransom note? What, for who?"

"It's addressed to me. Howard, someone's kidnapped Vince."

"What?" Howard could feel a burning heat behind his ears and down his neck.

"Basically, it's a ransom note demanded money in return for Vince. See, I sold some, er…some certain substances, to a couple of high-ranking Darxeetans a while back, and I accidentally short-changed them a fiver. Turns out they don't forget a debt."

"A fiver? A _fiver?_ Is that all? Jesus, Naboo, I've got a fiver! Here!" Howard rummaged desperately in his pocket and fished out five euros, thrusting it in Naboo's face. Naboo shook his head.

"No, Howard, you see…I owed them that fiver a while back, yeah? And they've obviously been holding it over me for long enough to collect some serious tax."

"How long are we talking, Naboo?"

"Oh, say, about three hundred and sixty years?"

"Three hundred and sixty – Jesus! What the – bloody hell! How much are they asking for?"

Naboo lowered his head slightly. "Five million euros."

Howard felt a rush of blood to the head, and he leant forward and grabbed Naboo forcibly by the collar. "Five _million_ euros? Five million euros or what?"

Just at that moment, Bollo came bounding into the room from upstairs and in an instant, body-tackled Howard face-down to the ground, sitting on his back to keep him in place. Naboo rolled his eyes. "Bollo, let him go."

"Harold no hurt Naboo! Harold huge ballbag!"

"Yeah, I know Bollo, but let him go."

Bollo conceded, backing off, and Howard picked himself up off the ground, gasping for breath and still trembling with uncertainty. "Answer me, Naboo. Five million euros or _what?"_

Naboo paused before answering slowly. "Or they kill Vince."

The maverick felt his heartrate speed up alarmingly. All the electric lights in the shop seemed to intensify, blurring his vision, disorientating him. "We…we don't have five million euros. So, I mean, why don't you just, you know, ring these people up and explain the situation to them? They wouldn't really kill V…I mean, surely, they wouldn't really…"

"Howard, believe me when I say that Darxeetans are not to be taken lightly."

"They huge ballbags too" added Bollo.

Naboo continued. "They...they left this, too." He held up something small - a tape - and put it into the battered old player that sat on the counter. They three of them listened in silence to the sound of static for a few minutes, and then Howard heard Vince's voice, and it was all he could manage to not burst into tears on the spot.

"Wait, no don't...please...get off me! No...wait, just...fuck...no! Howard! Howard..." the tape went dead.

Howard felt as if everything was running in fast motion. "Well you have to help him then! You have to go to Darxay…Darxoo…whatever the fuck the planet's called, and you can rescue him! Easy! Go on!" He frantically tried to usher Naboo towards the doorway.

"It's not that easy, Howard."

"What do you mean? Of course it is! Just get on the carpet and –"

"You don't understand. There's more to the letter. It says here that they've anticipated any possibility of my intervening, and they've got guards stationed everywhere watching for me. They just want the payment sent back alone. These people know what I look like, Howard. They'll kill me as soon as I set foot there, and then what use am I going to be to Vince?"

Howard resumed pacing up and down the room, wiping his sweaty hands on his corduroys over and over again. "But wait, they know what you look like, sure. But how do these people know to target Vince?"

"The nametag. He was wearing a Naboutique nametag – must've forgotten to take it off when he went down the street. They must've been waiting for a chance to grab someone. They can't get into the shop; there's some pretty powerful magics protecting it. I buffed it up after that green cockney came in and pissed on you. But they must've seen the nametag and known he was one of mine, so they took the opportunity."

"Told you nametags were bad idea" added Bollo unhelpfully.

Howard inwardly reeled, imagining Vince's innocent face as he was approached by these freaks…had he gone quietly? Had they been gentle with him? Oh God, fuck, oh fuck. No...kidnappers usually look after their prisoners, don't they? _Don't they?_

"What're we going to do? _Tell me!"_ Howard was shouting now.

"Vince precious flower!" moaned Bollo.

Naboo straightened his turban. "Look. We don't have the money, that's for sure. And no amount of explaining is going to work with these guys – they're a race of warlords, basically insane, violent, bloodthirsty…" Naboo trailed off, seeing the agonized expression on Howard's face. "…and me and Bollo can't go after him, we'll get snapped up in a second. What we need is someone else, someone who can carry out a dangerous rescue mission. Someone who they won't be expecting, who can sneak in under the radar, someone anonymous. Someone…"

"Generic-looking?" gasped Howard.

"Yeah, that's the idea. But it'll be such a risky journey, I don't know who –"

Howard held himself upright and cut the shaman off midsentence. "Right, that's sorted. I'm going."

Bollo grunted in agreement. "I gotta bad feeling about this."

"You're telling me" sighed Naboo.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys - I'm still not sure about this, so crit is very welcome. **


	2. And So Our Journey Begins

**A/N Sorry it's taken a while to actually get into the adventure - it took more setting up than I thought! But from this chapter onward, Howard is journeying, so things should get more exciting.**

**Disclaimer: not mine, never mine. **

* * *

"Okay, tell me everything I need to know."

Howard sat opposite Naboo, pen and paper at the ready, hands still shaking a little from the shock of Vince's fate. The tiny shaman had been spending the last fifteen minutes trying to talk Howard down from his determination to set out on a rescue mission, but the maverick would not be moved. He fitted the bill perfectly, as he had explained to Naboo – no one would be expecting him, and his generic features would make it easier for him to pass by unnoticed. Sure, he didn't have much training in the way of … of anything, really… but deep down he was a Man of Action, he knew it in his bones. Eventually, Naboo had given up, and resigned himself to Howard's mission.

"Well, first off, you're going to travel using this teleport stone." Naboo held up a purple crystal. "It'll transport you to Darxeeta immediately."

"No carpet?"

"No carpet. We can't risk them recognizing that it's mine – they don't seem to forget much. Plus you'd have to pass border security, and that'd be a nightmare. The stone gets you straight in."

"But won't they be on the lookout for people suddenly appearing out of nowhere at the entrance to their planet?"

"That's the brilliant thing about this stone. They have no way of telling where people are going to turn up. They can't have guards stationed at every spot on the planet, can they?"

Howard nodded quickly, still frantic. "Right, right, okay. Good. Wait…if they don't know where I'm going to be appearing, how do I know where I'm going to be appearing?"

Naboo cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You, er, don't. It's kind of a surprise."

"A _surprise?_" bellowed Howard. "I just hold onto this thing and it whizzes me off anywhere? You're telling me that I could turn up in the middle of a desert, or smack bang in the hands of the kidnappers?"

"Theoretically, yes. Well, you can't end up just anywhere; it's a little more specific than that. It'll transport you anywhere in a radius of between five and fifty miles from the center of the capital. This is our best shot at rescuing Vince without risking getting caught in the process."

The mention of Vince's name made Howard feel a little sick. "Okay. You're right, I guess it's our best shot."

Naboo could sense Howard's desperation, but remained passive, knowing that comforting the maverick would only delay the mission to recover Vince.

"It's the best I can do, Howard. And I've packed you a few things that should come in handy – a few spells and weapons and such. Right now, I suggest you go and have a sleep, so tomorrow at five a.m. I'll brief you, and then you can set off at dawn."

"Sleep? Are you crazy? I can't sleep! Not when Vince is…when he's…"

"Howard. I'm serious. It's getting late, and god knows what you'll have to face when you appear on Darxeeta. The last thing we want to do is ruin your chances by not having you at full strength for the first leg of the journey."

"But Vince…"

"Vince is fine, I'm sure. They are waiting for our payment, and they've given us seven days to deliver. Time is on our side, for now. Go – to – sleep."

Howard knew Naboo was right, as much as he had to fight his own instincts to admit that. He conceded, and left Naboo alone to formulate some details of the plan.

Lying in his bed that night, Howard wrestled with his feelings, struggling to drift into a refreshing, strengthening sleep. His palms were still sweating, and he was nervous…no, scared, frightened, bloody terrified of tomorrow. In the anonymity of the night, alone in his room, he could admit that to himself. He didn't know what he was doing! Who did he think he was, Johnny the Wonder Horse? He didn't know the first thing about kidnappers, or weapons, or Darxeetan jungles! Sure, he and Vince had gotten into some pretty serious scrapes in the past, but that was the thing, it was always him and Vince. If he was by himself, he was usually the person being rescued _by _Vince. Cocky, street-wise Vince, who could sweet-talk his way out of any situation.

Except this one.

God, what was he _doing?_ He was mere hours away from teleporting into an alien planet, armed with a rucksack full of knick-knacks and only his own generic features to protect himself! No one would come to rescue him this time…he could be killed in an instant.

His breathing sped up, and Howard found himself on the verge of panic, when suddenly the memory of Vince's voice caught on tape floated into his mind.

"_Howard! Howard…"_

Howard felt that familiar stirring in his gut, and the threatening tide of panic ebbed back a little. Vince needed him. He had no right to be scared when Vince was suffering god knows what. It was up to him, Howard Moon. Maybe not a Man of Action, but Vince's best friend. That had better be enough, he thought, finally drifting off into sleep.

"_Howard?"_

"_Mm?"_

"_You know that ice cream with bits of marshmallows and stuff in it?"_

"_Rocky Road."_

"_Yeah, that's it."_

"_What about it?"_

"_Can we go and get some for tonight? We could have a midnight feast!"_

"_You realize how much sugar is in that stuff, right?"_

"_Yeah, I know. Genius, isn't it?"_

"_That's not what I –"_

"_Aw, come on Howard, pleeeaassse?"_

"_Oh, alright then. Come on."_

"Beep beep… beep beep… " Howard awoke groggily, feeling blindly for his radio alarm clock in the darkness. He blinked as the clock slowly came into focus…five am?! Five in the bloody morning on his day off?! The little ponce must've been tampering with the alarm again…by god, when he got hold of Vince, he was going to…

Vince.

_Vince._

Yesterday's events smacked him in the face with a horrifying urgency, and he leaps out of bed. Showered and changed in a matter of minutes (if there was ever a time for the multi-purpose tweed utility suit, he didn't know when else it would be), he bolted into the lounge, where Naboo and Bollo sat surrounded in a mound of paper and unfamiliar objects.

"Morning, Howard" mumbled Naboo. The shaman's eyes were bleary and drooping; he had obviously been up all night. Bollo was asleep on the couch next to him. "You feeling ready?"

Howard wished he was one of those people who could broaden their shoulders and grunt in a manly voice "Ready as I'll ever be". But instead, he blurted out a vague affirmative noise, betraying the fear which was crawling up the back of his neck once again.

"Alright. Me and Bollo have been looking into things, and I managed to call in a favour, got hold of this." He handed over an ancient-looking parchment – a map.

"Now, I'm giving you this map, so that once you arrive, you can start working your way towards the High Fortress where they'll be keeping Vince. A red marker will appear to show you where you are. There's a few ways to travel there, but only one which will give you a good chance at passing unawares. Here…" Naboo gestured to an area on the map, shaded in menacing blacks and greens.

"This," he continued, "is the Forest of Naang. You'll want to make your way through it. It's infamous, and not many people get past, but you'll be hidden from the Darxeetans and if you're lucky it'll bring you up and around to the back entrance of the Fortress."

"If I'm lucky?" asked Howard, his voice strangled a little, mouth still parched.

Naboo ignored the question and swiftly moved on, now holding up a sparkling emerald ring. "I've also managed to get hold of this."

Howard took the ring dubiously. "I don't really accessorize, Naboo…there's a simple truth to me…"

"Howard, for god's sake, it's a communication device. Wearing this will allow me to communicate with you – basically I'll be able to transmit my words directly into your thoughts. It's a one way system though; there's no way for you to contact me. I'll check in on you as often as I can without jeopardizing your position."

"Right. Okay. Good."

"Now, all that's left to do is to take the stone and recite the incantation here" continued Naboo, indicating to an open page of a dusty tome. "It's all up to luck from there."

Howard took the stone from Naboo, now trembling uncontrollably. "Just another adventure", he inwardly repeated to himself like a mantra, "just another adventure." Time appeared to have slowed down around him – all he could see was the crystal, and all he could hear was Vince's frightened voice.

"No time like the present." Naboo's voice brought him back to reality. "Travel quickly. Time's on our side now, but it wont be for long. Good luck." He nudged Bollo who woke with a grunt. "Bollo, he's going."

Bollo grunted, and approached Howard, placing a heavy paw on Howard's shoulder. "Harold bring Vince back. Vince special."

"I know" whispered Howard.

Bollo paused, pondering something. "If Harold bring back precious flower, Bollo play Weather Report at roller disco next week."

Howard managed a wry grin before lifting his eyes to the incantation and muttering the strange words out loud, all the while praying desperately to anyone who would listen, _please, please, please…_ All the colours in the room seemed to merge together – a dazzling mirage of blues, greens, pinks and yellows. It reminded him of Vince. And then, in a second, the colours faded away and were replaced with darkness – a cold and total darkness. The stone had worked.

He felt hesitantly around his new location, hands waving out blindly at nothing. A few steps forward, and he felt a wall in front of him – rock…jagged rock and moss. Fumbling in his pocket, he brought out his trusty Zippo lighter and the map which Naboo had given him. He lit the Zippo, creating a small burst of illumination and heat around him. The action made him recall his imprisonment in the green cockney's box, back in the Zooniverse days, and he half-expected Vince to appear beside him from the shadows. The thought made his stomach drop a little further.

Focusing on the task at hand, Howard peered at the map, careful not to catch it in the flame. The red marker was hovering above…what was it? …Yes…he could see now, a cave system which was marked out in the upper east. Surprisingly, amazingly, not too far out from the forest Naboo had told him about…maybe a one or two day hike at most, judging by the scale. Howard flicked off the Zippo, conscious of reserving the gas, and inwardly jumping for joy. Yes! He had managed not only to appear somewhere hidden, but within a good distance of Vince! Lady Fame must have put in a good word for him to Lady Luck, and he had made it past the first step alive! More than alive – completely unscathed! Now to find a way out…

"What business do you have in my cave?"

Howard froze.

"I said, what business do you have in my cave?"

The voice was deep and menacing. Howard could see nothing in the darkness, and because of the echo in the caves, the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Taking a few slow steps backwards, he ventured a choked response.

"Nothing…I was just…nothing…"

"You'll be nothing in a minute, that's for sure" boomed the voice.

"Er, no…you see, I'm just leaving now, actually…" Howard felt a wall behind him, and began to follow it, hoping that the darkness which cloaked his enemy was serving him the same purpose. His eyes finally adjusting to the darkness just a little, he glimpsed a tiny glimmer of what looked like sunshine in the far distance…an exit?

"You shall not leave."

Trying desperately to buy himself time, and too afraid to rustle through his rucksack for something which might assist him, Howard responded.

"It's a nice cave you've got yourself here…yeah…really nice…did you decorate it yourself or get someone in?"

"Stupid man. You have trespassed on my cave, and you are mine now. That is the way."

Howard continued edging towards the light. "I didn't mean to trespass, really. It was an accident. You see –"

"Enough. You have two choices – I am merciful enough to grant you that. The first choice is death by fire."

"Oh…right. And the second choice?"

"I eat you whole."

"Oh, shit."

At that moment, Howard felt the wall behind him change in texture. What had been rocky and crumbly suddenly felt damper…and…almost…scaly…? He turned around just in time to see an eye open up next to him – an eye which was as round as he was tall. He tried his hardest not to have a heart attack - focus, FOCUS! Vince. Vince. Vince.

"Choose!" the creature boomed.

Flooded with adrenhaline and glancing at the light ahead, Howard did the only thing he knew how to do – and by god did he have a lot of practice at it – he ran.

**Thanks guys, hope you enjoyed. Click the review button - it gives out candy!**

* * *


	3. Across the Plains

**A/N Some more adventuring for you all. I just found out that Matt Holness (Garth Marenghi) is going to be at Booshfest as well as Peaches (and RiD too, I suppose), so this update was again prompted by my extreme disillusionment at being trapped in Australia. And for those of you who miss Vince in this story, don't worry, I do too, but we'll get to him in the near future.**

* * *

Go – go – _go!_ Howard charged through the darkness, his heavy rucksack throwing his balance off as he waved his arms desperately in front of him, feeling his way towards the light source. The creature, whatever it was, stormed behind him in such close pursuit that Howard was shaken by the vibrations each pounding step left in its wake. _Go!_

His shoulder struck a jagged wall without notice, sending him reeling sideways, pain blossoming down his arm, but he kept running. Not just running for his life, as he had done so many times before, but running for Vince's too. He could feel the creature gaining on him inch by inch, thundering through the cave system, and as the light approached, he thought only in fractured snatches: Run, run, pain, run, Vince, run, light, run, run, pain, run, light, Vince, Vince, Vince…

Just as he could feel the creature's hot breath on his back, Howard summoned all the strength he had left throw himself at what he hoped so badly was an exit. Diving forward, crashing into the soft ground below with a dull thud, sunlight flooding his consciousness, he turned just in time to hear a hiss, and see the half-lit shadow of his attacker retreating into the darkness – an enormous black, scaly, menacing _something._ Howard couldn't focus enough yet to relish his escape; he lay crumpled on the grass, feeling his pulse beating in his head and thundering in his chest, and his breath was coming in heaves and chokes, feeling as though he might be sick. He lay there, drawing in oxygen, for some time, until finally he felt well enough to continue onward.

On his feet again, rucksack still thankfully in one piece, Howard fished out his map again. The marker hovered above a spot outside the shaded cave system, and as he had noted earlier, he was quite near to the forest he sought. Upon closer inspection, he was nearer than he had thought – a day's hike westward. Easy.

"_Howard."_

Howard jumped, looking around wildly for the speaker.

"_Howard."_

Nothing – nobody. "Hello? Who's there? Where are you?" An invisible predator? One who…knew his name?

"_Howard, you ballbag, it's Naboo."_

"Oh! Right, sorry. Long day. Well – long hour or so."

"_You don't have to talk out loud, Howard, in fact you probably shouldn't. It'll make you look suspicious if anyone smart is looking in, and if it's someone dumb then you'll just look insane, which isn't much better. Just think clearly – I can hear it."_

"_Er, okay." _Speaking in thoughts was kind of unnerving, especially since he couldn't see Naboo. Howard found it easier to imagine the tiny shaman, impatiently waiting for him to clue on, lying back on the couch with a bong on one side of him and Bollo on the other.

"_You're still alive, then." _Naboo lisped.

"_Don't sound so surprised!"_

"_Sorry."_

"_You know, it would have helped if you'd checked in on me a little earlier…I just narrowly escaped becoming someone's breakfast."_

"_It's two p.m. on Darxeeta."_

"_Lunch. Whatever."_

"_Well I can't check in on you every five seconds in case you're being eaten, can I? It's risky enough as it is. And you got out alright by yourself, yeah?"_

"_Just. Cut my shoulder but I think it's fine. I'm just lucky that I was born with sleek, willowy legs. The ladies have always complimented me on these babies, and they didn't let me down today, no sir."_

There was a silence from Naboo's end. _"Right, anyway."_

"_I'm serious, Naboo! I was this close to getting eaten. Any closer, and I would have been using the stone to teleport back home for some combat revision classes!"_

"_Er, about that."_

"…_what about that?"_

"_There's one thing I didn't tell you before you left. About that stone."_

"_Naboo?!"_

"_Look, basically, it's a return journey stone. If you lose your nerve and teleport back home, there'll be no returning for Vince. The only way to do it is to go in, get Vince and get out. You come back without him, and he'll be there forever."_

"_Why didn't you tell me this earlier? Jesus, Naboo!"_

"_You were getting scared enough as it is. Didn't want to give you more of a reason to shit yourself."_

"_Well thankyou so much."_

"_No problem."_

"_Anyway…any updates from the home front?" _Howard quite liked saying that – it made him feel like a solider. Brave.

"_Actually Howard, yeah." _Naboo's tone dropped just a fraction enough to send Howard's insides into a power-cycle wash. Part of him wanted to take the ring off, throw it away and go to sleep, to not have to hear anything from Naboo.

"_Wh-what?"_

"_Now, don't panic, it's not awful news or anything. It's just…we got another letter just now…"_

"_Saying what? Have they upped it to 50 million? A billion? Because you can tell them from me that Howard Moon is going to –"_

"_No, Howard. Same demands, just reiterating their threats. To keep us on our toes."_

"_Then what's the big –"_

"_They sent some of Vince's hair in the letter."_

"…_what?" _

"_Don't panic, because it's not a finger or anything, just hair. I just thought you should know, is all."_

"_Are you sure it's his?"_

"_Yeah, I had Bollo analyse it in the basement lab. You alright?"_

"_I'm…yeah, I'm fine. I have to go. I have to get moving. Get to Vince."_

"_That's the spirit. I'll check in with you later on – good luck."_

Naboo having broken contact, Howard's thoughts began to rush around in a frenzy. Vince's hair…how dare they, the sonsofbitches…when he got a hold of them...god, Vince… Howard suddenly, unwittingly, conjured up an image of Vince, locked up in some cold cell, with strangers cutting at his beautiful raven locks while he protested uselessly. Vince's hair was his life, he'd do anything to protect it! God, he wouldn't have put up a fight, would he? Another flood of images crash-landed into Howard's brain – Vince hitting the floor, Vince receiving blows to the stomach, Vince clutching at his head…

Howard ruffled his hair and took a deep breath of air. Can't waste time worrying. Must continue, have to continue. Getting his bearing on which way was north, he continued off westward at a jaunty pace.

--

Seven hours later, and Howard was struggling. What had seemed like a day's hike looked as if it might stretch into two, or three, or a hundred. He'd been walking non-stop all day, and now that the sun was starting to set, the landscape looked the same as when he had started out; anonymous grassy plains without another inhabitant in sight, save for the odd small animal which failed to notice him anyway; the forest nowhere in view. According to his map marker, he was making progress – it's just that progress was much more difficult to achieve than the map indicated. What was worse, the injury Howard had suffered to his shoulder in the cave chase was starting to worsen – the gash in his shoulder was starting to get infected by the looks of things. As light retreated over the horizon, Howard took a seat on a small rocky formation overlooking even more plains ahead. It was a beautiful view, actually, he thought. The dappled sunlight splashing itself in patches over the different shades of green – it was stunning.

Howard suddenly realized where he was. He was alone, billions of miles away from anything even vaguely familiar, on a distant bloody planet, injured and tired, searching for his best friend who was in serious danger. The weight of the task overwhelmed him for a moment, and he put his head in his hands, clutching at his hair. He felt tears prick at the back of his eyes, but once again refused to allow himself the luxury, for there was no time. No time at all.

"_Hey, Howard."_

"_Vince? What're you doing up so late?"_

"_Sorry to wake you…it's just…"_

"_Just what, Vince?"_

"_Nah, forget about it."_

"_Vince."_

"_It's embarrassing, Howard."_

"_What, you're embarrassed in front of me?"_

"_Yeah, I guess you're right. I just…had a nightmare, is all."_

"_What about?"_

"_It's silly. I can't even remember much, and some of it wasn't a nightmare, like this bit where we had all these musical prawns performing in the shop, imagine that! But then it was about…about you, and me. We had a huge fight about…I don't know…you were so furious…you hit me…it made me a bit, y'know. Scared."_

"_Don't worry about it, little man. Just a dream, after all. You know I'd never…"_

"_Can I…hop up on the bed for a bit?"_

"_Of course. Come on, up you get."_

"_Cheers, Howard. You want some raspberry bootlace?"_

"_You're eating candy at three in the morning? No wonder you've been having nightmares."_

"_I wasn't eating them until I had the nightmare! I needed a pick-me-up!"_

"_It's not good for you."_

"_Don't be boring, Howard. Sweets are genius. You just don't like them because of the colours. You can't hack it – the pinks, the bright greens, the yellows – if someone invented beige and muffin M&Ms, you'd be right on it."_

"_Don't be ridiculous."_

"_You know, your bed is way comfier than mine, Howard."_

"_You think?"_

"_Yeah, definitely. It's well comfy. Especially when your arms are keeping me warm like that."_

"_I'm not a part of the bed, little man."_

"_As if you're not."_

"_I'm my own man, sir. I'll not have you reducing me to a piece of furniture!"_

"_Hey, my stomach's freezing."_

"_Oh, sorry. Here."_

"…_that's better."_

_--_

Howard pulled himself back to reality with a jolt, painfully ashamed of himself for allowing his mind to wander in a time of crisis, and also feeling an ache in his chest for that lazy intimacy he and Vince had once shared. Still share. Will share. Bollocks.

Fumbling with the map, using his Zippo to illuminate it in the increasing night, Howard could see a few hours' journey still ahead of him. At least, he thought, I'm walking in the right direction. And I'm not dead. That's a plus, too. He felt for his shoulder injury, his fingers coming away with something other than blood on them, something oozing. He needed medicine. The cut was making him feel a little light-headed and nauseous, but he picked up the pace nonetheless and continued westward.

Just as he was visualizing what Vince would say to him if he was here (…_Howard, geeze, get your hair sorted out! I know I said it was like brown smoke before, but have you seen it lately? I'm talking, like, wet smog!..)_ when he saw a line of green appear to him in the distance, lit by the glow of the last remains of sunset. Re-checking his map, he realized that he was heading towards the Forest of Naang. He had finally found it! Yes! Man of Action or not, Howard Moon got the job done, yes sir! Hang in there Vince, he thought excitedly, I'm coming to…

Howard heard a sickening crack, as the earth beneath him gave way, and he plummeted below. As he fell, he was struck with an image of Vince, grinning as he broke eggs into a pancake mix. His head collided with something solid, and he lost consciousness.

--

Couldn't move…he couldn't move. That was the first thing he realized, even before he opened his eyes. His whole body was aching with pain, and his first instinct was to move his arms, but he couldn't. The second thing he noticed was heat – a blinding, enveloping heat. Blinking slowly, a vague mess of shapes and colours began to come into focus…figures…standing below him. Huge figures, maybe ten feet tall… Howard blinked again. The figures became people – man-like creatures, anyway, almost fully cloaked. A crowd of them; twenty, maybe fifty…and they were holding…spears? His mind switching itself on again, Howard ventured a glance downwards, vision still blurry, and to his horror discovered that he was bound in rope from his feet to his neck.

"What…" he choked.

The largest of the cloaked figures took a step forwards, spear first. "Name."

"...eh?"

"_Name._"

"Howard. Howard – Moon."

"Purpose."

"I'm a…a jazz maverick. And a writer. I span the genres."

"We know nothing of mavericks. We know nothing of genres. You have entered Phetargan territory, and you shall be roasted and sacrificed, as is the custom."

"R-roasted?" Howard glanced downward again, and saw that he was suspended above what looked like a cauldron filled with boiling water – the kind Naboo used at home to cook up hash cakes. Though the size of this cauldron would have produced a lifetime supply.

"No, you don't understand…I have to…"

"Silence, Howard Moon, jazz maverick. You will not alter your fate with false pleas. The Phetargan people do not have much, but we do have these lands to our name, and our gods will favour us for our sacrifice. It is the way of things."

"But, Vince…"

"We know nothing of a Vince. We know only to protect our lands and serve our gods. You will be roasted now."

And with that, the cloaked speaker gestured to another of his kind, who began to rotate a wheel. The wheel, Howard saw, was connected to his bindings. He started being lowered, inch by inch, towards the boiling pot, the unbearable heat snaking its way into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, a beckoning death…

* * *

**That's all for now, folks. And remember, each review brings Howard closer to his goal! lol.**


	4. A Grave Offense

**I thought I'd bust out another chapter because I'm as eager as the rest of you to get Howard closer to Vince! Thanks so much to everyone who's been reading and reviewing so far, you make my day, and special thanks to violence for the formatting advice. From now on, flashbacks are in italics and Naboo's telepathy conversations with Howard are in bold. Hope this chapter is okay, it was kinda tricky to write.**

* * *

Howard could almost feel the burn of the boiling water below him, growing nearer and nearer still. Though the space surrounding him was expansive by any measure, it was still underground, and the trapped heat was all-consuming. It made him dizzy, and had he not been bound in rope from head to toe, he would have almost certainly keeled over. Confused, almost delirious, he stuttered out in a last-minute panic.

"Please, no! You've got it wrong!"

"We have nothing wrong. You are a traveler who has crossed into our lands, and the sacrifice must be made." The reply seemed to come from the leader of the cloaked beings, though by this stage Howard was thrashing his head around wildly, and couldn't make out anything with clarity. The heat grew more and more unbearable as he inched ever closer to the cauldron.

"No! No – I didn't know! Please!"

"Silence, Howard Moon. It is done."

The dizziness threatened to overtake Howard. "W-wait…no…I have to…please…Vince…" He could feel flecks of boiling water leaping out of the cauldron and scalding his feet.

"You have no right to plead with us. You are no friend of our lands."

"Friend…no, I'm…wait…Naboo! I know Naboo! Naboo the shaman!"

The turning wheel ground to a stop. Silence, everywhere. Howard hung there, suspended, unmoving, fighting against his body to stay conscious. Finally, the cloaked leader spoke.

"Is this true? You are a friend of Naboo of Xooberon?"

"Yes! Yes! I work…I work with him! Naboo! Yes!"

The leader gestured several of his followers. "Remove the cauldron. Cut the maverick down."

Howard felt relief wash through every vein, every pore, every inch of his body. The cauldron was wheeled away from beneath him, and when he was lowered to the ground, he felt as if he could kiss it, kiss it all over, and scream out with joy. Instead he pressed his head against the cool earth; too exhausted to stand. As the leader approached him, his face a hidden black depth beneath his robes, Howard stuttered out a garbled hymn of thanks.

"You – thankyou…I can't tell you…I…thankyou…"

The leader stared down over him, casting an ominous shadow over Howard's form. "You think you have been granted freedom? You are mistaken."

"Wh-what?"

"Naboo of Xooberon is not a friend of our people. Several hundred years ago, he was invited to our lands to share his magics with us, and insulted one of our elders. He left for his planet before justice could be exacted."

"He…insulted…?" Howard croaked.

"I believe the phrase he used was 'ballbag.' The Phetargans are a proud race, and we do not look lightly upon such a grave offense. You say you are a friend of Naboo of Xooberon – we say you are a condemned man in our lands."

Everything was going horribly wrong. Howard struggled to make sense of it. "But you…you cut me down?"

"Yes. You see, before you were a trespasser, a stranger, but you were pure and would have served well as a sacrifice, not unlike the wildbeasts. Your association with Naboo of Xooberon makes you an unpure soul. Your sacrifice would offend our gods greatly."

"You're not…going to…"

"We shall still sacrifice you. You must be made pure first. You two – prepare the purification ritual!" The leader beckoned a pair of followers, who lifted Howard up over their shoulders. Howard's brain must have chosen that moment to give his consciousness a break, because the next thing that he knew, he was being secured, spread-eagled and flat on his back, on a large wooden surface, with cloaked Phetargans hovering in and out of his vision.

"Good, you have awoken. Retribution is only made possible through awareness. You will notice that we have dressed you in the appropriate ceremonial garb."

"I…look, I'm sure Naboo…didn't mean it…"

"It is not your place to apologize for others. Now be silent, maverick, while I read the ancient rites." The leader retrieved a scroll of parchment from within his robes and began to boom out the words in a deep melodic tone. "This being comes before us tainted. Tainted with the sins of past wrongdoing. He shall be made clean for our gods."

"He shall be made clean for our gods" chanted back the rest of the Phetargans. The leader placed down the parchment and addressed Howard directly.

"Thirty lashes, one for each decade in which we have lived in shame. Shame at the insult slung upon our people. You will be made clean."

"You will be made clean" responded the Phetargans.

And with that, Howard felt the unbearable sting of a whip slash across his chest. He cried out; a garbled shriek. Another lash, making the first one seem subtle. He cried out again. It burned and cut and scraped all at once. Another lash. He could feel it all over, and he fought the urge to be sick. Amidst the pain, a surprising clarity overtook him, charged by a fury that was as sharp as the whip ripping into his chest. Was this the best he could do? Was this it? Run from a predator and be tortured and roasted a few hours later? Was this all he was capable of? Was this all he could offer to Vince?

"You…" Another lash screamed into his flesh.

"Have…" His body tensed in rebellion.

"To…" Another lash, the cracking sound reverberating in the air.

"Let…" His pulse thumping in his throat, his ears, his fingertips. Vince.

"Me…" Vince, Vince, remember Vince…

"GO!" Howard bellowed from deep within his tortured chest, forcing himself upwards with a shocking rush of strength so powerful that he broke his left arm loose of its bind. The leader dropped his whip and rushed immediately to Howard's side, ready to re-tie him, but Howard held up his fist in a useless protest.

"No! You have to release me! I have to get to the Darxeetan capital! Let me go!"

The Phetargan leader withdrew his grip on Howard slowly. "The…Daxeetan capital? What business have you there, accursed maverick?"

"I have to get Vince back. The Darxeetans, they're kidnapped Vince, and I have to get there before they…" Howard's sudden burst of strength began to fade away with his voice. The Phetargans, however, seemed to have gained a great interest in his words. The leader spoke again.

"You say you have desires against the will of the Darxeetans?"

"Yes…th-that's right."

"You, both of you, untie this man."

"Oh god, do I have to be purified again?" Howard moaned, closing his eyes. But to his surprise, the leader placed a robed hand on his shoulder as two Phetargans worked to unbind him. "The Darxeetans have pillaged our land for centuries. It is by their will that we have been forced into submission, driven underground and confined to a few small plains. You stand against this will. We cannot harm a creature who takes this stance."

Howard couldn't bring himself to believe it. "But…Naboo…"

"Naboo of Xooberon committed a grave offense indeed. But it is nothing – it is less than nothing – when compared to the crimes of the Darxeetans. We stand united with you against a common foe, and as such, we shall release you."

Howard felt his restraints being removed, and several Phetargans slowly lifted him to his feet. Looking downward, he could see blood seeping through the ceremonial costume he was wearing. Around him, the walls seemed to be wobbling in and out of focus, exploding outward and then caving in. He attempted a step forwards, and as the pain of movement rushed up through his body, he finally, thankfully, lost consciousness.

--

"_Howard, Howard, Hooooward. It's a funny name, ishn't it?"_

"_I'll have you know it's a perfectly respectable name, little man."_

"_Yeah, yeah."_

"_What, you think your name is better? Vince? Might as well be a trucker from East Enders!"_

"_Vinsh…that's my name."_

"_Yes. God Vince, how much did you have to drink?"_

"_A lot. Flirtinis and other…bits of…drink…I had pink drink. Haha, pink drink…"_

"_Oh for god's sake."_

"_Thanksh for getting up to let me in. And shorry again for…what did I do again?"_

"_You fell over in the kitchen and broke a chair. And the toaster."_

"_That's right…yeah…shorry again."_

"_Oh, it's okay."_

"_Argh, Howard, everything's shpinning around and around."_

"_That'll teach you to party so late with Leroy, won't it?"_

"_You shoulda come, Howard, it was geeeeenius!"_

"_Not really my scene. I don't flit around with Camden dollybirds in clubs that go out of style five minutes after they go in. I'm a man of substance."_

"_Urgh…"_

"_What, what is it?"_

"_I shink…I think I had too many substances…"_

"_Whoa there, little man. You gonna be sick?"_

"_No…no I think I'm okay…I gotta sit down. Where's the floor?"_

"_Down, Vince, the floor is down. Come on, you know this."_

"_Haha! Yeah, down. Okay. Here I go."_

"_Watch it! Oh, god. You've knocked over Naboo's bong…he's going to crack it in the morning."_

"_Naboo, Naboo, Naboo… haha, thas' a funny name too! Not as funny as Hoooward though."_

"_I told you, it's a respectable name. Howard. It's a strong name, a manly name, yes sir, a proud name!"_

"_Yeah. I'm proud of you."_

"…"

"…_Howard?"_

"…"

"…_Hellooooooo, Hooowaaard?"_

"_Sorry – yeah. Anyway, we should be getting you to sleep before you break something else."_

"_Shorry."_

"_It's alright, I'm only teasing. Come on, off to bed with you."_

"_You're funny, Howard."_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_And you're my besht friend. And I love you. Thas' alright, isn't it?"_

"…_come on now, go to sleep."_

_--_

"**Howard? Howard!" **

Howard awoke, jolting upright from his sleeping position, and groaning at the pain which seared through his torso. He peered around…he appeared to be inside a tent of some sort.

"**Howard! It's Naboo, wake up for god's sake!"**

He noticed that the ring was back on his finger. Breathing deeply to overcome the burning pain, he mentally responded.

"**Naboo!"**

"**Howard! Finally! I've been trying to get your attention for an hour!"**

"**I was sleeping – I could sleep for a century, after today!"**

"**What on earth happened to you, Howard?"**

"**What happened? I'll tell you what happened! I was captured, tortured and very nearly roasted alive by a bunch of aliens! And you want to know why, huh? Because you so very kindly neglected to inform me that **_**you slagged off one of their elders, and now they're out for revenge!!**_** If they hadn't realized I was out to get the Darxeetans like they are, I'd have been sacrificed!**_**"**_

"…**oh. Really?"**

"**Yes! Don't you remember insulting their elder?"**

"**It's a bit of a blur, to be honest."**

"**A blur? A blur?! I've almost been killed! Twice! Goddammit, Naboo, how many people have you pissed off in this galaxy?!"**

"**I'm over four hundred years old, Howard. These things happen when you're around for that long."**

"**Well next time, it might be nice if you'd give me a heads up before I stroll off unknowingly into the jaws of death! What next, decapitated by ninjas because you called their master a jerk-off?"**

"**Calm down, Howard. You're hurt, I can tell in your voice. You need to reserve your strength."**

"**And you need to lay of the weed and start remembering things! God, Naboo, these Phetargans are really offended!"**

"**I remember now. Phetargans. I called their elder a ballbag, yeah?"**

"**Now you remember!"**

"…**he **_**was**_** a ballbag."**

"**That's it, I'm losing the ring."**

"**C'mon Howard, now **_**you're**_** being a ballbag."**

"**Oh, that's right, now **_**everyone's**_** a ballbag."**

"**No, just you. And that Phetargan guy."**

"**You little –"**

"**Okay, okay, I'm sorry alright? But remember why you're there. Vince."**

"…**I know. Right. Any news?"**

"**Not as such."**

"**What does that mean, exactly?"**

"**Well, no developments. Same demands. They just sent a reminder… another tape."**

"**Oh. God. Let me hear it."**

"**I can't – I can only transmit thought-to-thought with you, remember? But I can tell you what was on it. Not much. Just some sounds…"**

"**What – sounds."**

"**Vince."**

"**What – **_**sounds.**_**"**

"**He was screaming."**

Howard's blood ran cold**. "Is he…do you think he's…"**

"**I'm sure he's okay. Relatively speaking. They have to keep him alive for bargaining."**

"**Keep him alive? That doesn't mean anything! They could keep him alive, and still…and still…" **Howard shuddered at the possibilities, and Naboo paused in response, obviously sharing Howard's visions.

"**Howard. Keeping him alive means everything. It means the difference between you bringing him home or coming back alone."**

"**I know. I know. Of course. I have to get moving."**

"**I'll check in on you later. Hopefully not when you're sleeping."**

"…**Naboo, when you plug into that telepathy thing, you can read my thoughts, right?"**

"**Yeah. That's why you've gotta think clearly when we're talking, otherwise the message gets a bit scrambled."**

"**So why did you have to ask me what'd happened to me?"**

"**Whaddya mean?"**

"**Well, couldn't you have just read my thoughts while I was sleeping?"**

"**I couldn't. You weren't dreaming about your torturing. You were dreaming about…something else. It was powerful enough that it blocked out any other images."**

"**Oh…um…I – hey, I have to go."**

"**I am sorry about the whole ballbag thing, y'know."**

"**I'll deal with you when we get back." **Naboo's connection broke off, leaving Howard to linger with hope on the "when" in that sentence, and more importantly, the "we".

At that moment, a cloaked figure entered Howard's tent-space. The Phetargan leader again. Despite the previous turn of events, Howard had to fight back his fear impulse as the creature sat himself down on Howard's makeshift bed.

"Many apologies for the injuries you have suffered, Howard Moon. You must understand, though, that our people have customs which must be abided by."

Howard had to bite his tongue not to lash out in anger. "Yes, I understand. So I am free now?"

"You are free. While you slept, some of our mystics performed healing rituals

around you, so that while you shall still feel pain, your burden will be less. Alas, we are bound to our lands, and cannot follow to assist you with your mission. However, we offer you this, as a token of our support. Anything which subverts Darxeetan control is a great pleasure to our gods." He handed Howard a tiny round ball, bright green, looking almost like a sweet.

"What is it?"

"It is a sacred charm – a secret handed down from generation to generation amongst our people. You must eat it, and when you do, you will be rendered invisible to every living creature around you. You can only use it once, and once ingested, the spell will only last for thirty minutes, but if you use it at the Darxeetan High Fortress, it will be enough to grant you safe passage. Use it wisely."

"God, this is brilliant! Thankyou!"

"Remember though, there is one limitation upon the charm. You must not utter a sound, or else the spell will instantly be broken. Absolute silence is the key – the sound of a living voice corrodes the magic."

"Easy. Excellent. Thankyou again."

"You are welcome, Howard Moon, spanner of genres." The Phetargan retreated back outside, leaving Howard alone to dress (slowly – his wounds still burned) and gather his rucksack, placing the charm safely in a pocket. Soon he was ready to continue onward, feeling worse for wear but more determined than ever to reach the High Fortress. He was ushered towards a ladder which would lead him upward and back onto the plains – the Forest of Naang was right ahead. As he began to climb up the rungs, he felt a hand on his shoulder – the leader once again.

"Fare thee well, maverick Howard Moon. Many a man has perished in the Forest of Naang."

"Thanks."

"You are most welcome." replied the leader, evidently missing Howard's sarcasm."

"And thanks again for not roasting me."

"Repay us by winning this small victory against the Darxeetans. And, Howard Moon, we are not sure what a Vince is…but we hope you find yours."

"…thanks." Howard began the upward climb, his eyes squinting into even smaller shapes than usual as he approached the daylight above.

* * *

**Eek! Hope that was alright. Click on the review button - it soothes Howard's wounds! **


	5. Losing Face

**A/N Okay guys, this is the last chapter before Vince will enter into the story in some way or other. Apologies if this update is too descriptive, or there's not enough action - it's kinda hard to write when it's just Howard wandering around! But anyway, he's almost there now!**

* * *

It wasn't long before Howard found himself at the edge of the Forest of Naang. The marker on his map confirmed it logically, and the ominous chill that went through his body as he peered into the darkness confirmed it emotionally. The pain in his chest, though dulled by the Phetargan remedy, still burned and slowed his movement, and feeling of calm that he had gathered from his brief interlude of rest began to trickle out of him slowly, like water from a leaky bucket.

Howard hesitated, only a few steps away from entering into the leafy undergrowth, enormous trees and strange alien plants towering over him. That all-too-familiar panic began to set in again. The Phetargan leader's warning spun round and round in his head – _"Many a man has perished in the Forest of Naang"_ – and Naboo's warning too – "_It's infamous, and not many people get past"…_

Despite the sunshine, a cold wind rushed past, and Howard wished more than anything that he could be curled up in a cosy spot on the couch, flicking channels and sipping a mug of tea. That kind of comfort seemed a million miles away…well, it was actually. More than a million, thought Howard, probably more like a billion. He'd only been on this godforsaken planet for two days and already he'd been threatened with being eaten, burned, roasted and sacrified. He'd run from monsters, trekked for hours across the plains, and been tortured by a tribe of aliens. And none of it had been fun. It'd seem like that would be an obvious statement, he thought; of course none of it had been fun. But that was just the thing: when he was with Vince, these sort of adventures had seemed like…just that. Like adventures. Sure, Howard had been thumped by aliens before; he'd been kidnapped and brainwashed and had to run from more monsters than he could keep count of. But it had always, even in the really scary parts, felt like a bit of an adventure. Because he had Vince. Take away that shiny charisma from the mix, and the stuff that was left over on these adventures was much too close to a dangerous sort of reality that Howard didn't think he could bear.

It always came back to Vince.

It had to.

And now he had to make Vince come back to him.

With stronger resolve than he expected to muster, Howard ventured forth into the forest, repeating to himself that every step he took was a step closer to Vince, and a step closer to that mug of tea in front of the telly.

An hour or two later, and amazingly, Howard was still traveling safely. The forest was a frightening place indeed – strange sounds echoed through the leaves from all directions; screeches, thumps, rustles, and what sounded like screams – but whenever the sounds became too disturbing, Howard put his hands over his ears and hummed to himself. Charlie Mingus sure knew how to cure a man of fear. At this rate, he'd be at the fortress before sundown.

"You – are you human being?"

"Oh for god's sake, what now?" Howard turned to see a large group of monkey-type creatures hanging from the vines, staring down at him curiously.

"Our leader needs new face. Face of human. We search long time but never find human face. You give us face now."

"You have got to be kidding me. I thought Vince made this all up to entertain me!"

"Vince? We not want Vince. We want face. Your face."

"You're not getting my face. Piss off."

"Our leader be very angry if you no give us face. He have bad temper."

"Not my problem, honestly."

"Many of monkeys, only one man. Not good idea to fight, face-man."

"Look, I can understand why you want my face. It's a handsome face, a classical face, a face which is both masculine and tender, but I'm sorry, it's my face. And it's staying on my…head."

"Then we take head too." And with that, several of the larger monkeys swung down from the vines, brandishing knives. Howard took a step backwards, only to find that more monkeys with more knives were coming from that direction too. They were small, but in such large numbers, it looked like it was set to be a slice and dice nightmare.

Following a bizarre impulse in his brain, he suddenly made a run for it, zooming on an arc around the monkeys and making for the higher ground in the distance. At first, he thought he had managed it; that his willowy antelope legs had done him justice yet again. But then he heard the monkeys approaching him from behind, and just by hearing the nearing sound of screeches and rustling vines he could tell that he wouldn't have a chance – they was moving at thrice his speed at least. Hurtling like a maniac through the undergrowth, feeling the monkeys gaining on him, he gave up on his legs and made a sudden switch of faith into his arms, leaping at the nearest tree and forcing the rest of his tired body up with him, branch by branch, knowing that monkeys could climb (much better than he could) but desperately hoping against hope that they wouldn't follow him. And they didn't. Somehow, by the time Howard reached the fifteenth branch or so, he realized that the monkeys still remained at the foot of the tree.

Oh. They knew the only way for him was down. They were waiting for him.

He waited there for an hour, listening to the sounds of the monkey clan wandering about beneath him on the forest floor. He wished desperately that Naboo's telepathy ring was a two-way system…he really could have used the tiny shaman's advice. Even just to hear a familiar voice. Even just to hear a grunt from Bollo. It shouldn't be him, here, attempting this rescue mission. It should be someone else, someone skilled, someone with courage – not a tired jazzman who climbed up a tree at the first sign of danger! That last-minute panic he had felt the night before leaving…maybe that had been a sign. A sign that he wasn't cut out for this kind of adventuring. Howard closed his eyes in frustration.

"_How long d'ya reckon you'll work here, Howard?"_

"_Why? Did Bollo tell you Naboo's firing me? Because you know Bollo just likes saying that."_

"_I was just wondering."_

"_Haven't really thought about it, to be honest. I'm Howard Moon, a visionary, an auteur. I go where the pulse of life sends me."_

"_So, you don't reckon you'll work here forever then."_

"_No, of course not! There are great things awaiting me, Vince, a many great things. It may not be my time yet, no sir, but when Lady Fame comes a-knocking, she…"_

"…_so, you don't reckon you'll stay in London forever then."_

"_Today London, tomorrow the world."_

"_Howard?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_So, I mean, you don't reckon that it's gonna be like this forever then."_

"_Like what? Working in a dead-end shop where I get bullied by a lower primate? I should hope not."_

"_I didn't mean that."_

"_Vince, you're testing my patience. I'm renovating the entire tape section of stationary village. What are you talking about?"_

"_I just meant that…when you go…y'know, on one of your big Man of Action things, where…do I go?"_

"…_I thought you were all set for stardom? Vince Noir, Rock n Roll star. You've been telling me that ten times a day for the last ten years!"_

"_Yeah, it's funny, that. Like…I was thinking."_

"_Shock horror."_

"_Shutup Howard. I was thinking, rock n roll star sounds pretty great, I mean, it rhymes with my name and everything, and that's genius, but I don't know if I could really do it if…"_

"_If what?"_

"_If you weren't around so that I could say it to you ten times a day."_

"…"

"_It's like…the saying it is better than the doing it. Cuz… if I do it, it'll be just me. But when I'm saying it, it's you as well."_

_"..."_

_"Sorry, that probably sounds mental. I've gone wrong, haha. Maybe it's the heat."_

_"I doesn't sound mental."_

_"...no?"_

_"It sounds..."_

_"...yeah Howard?"_

"…_Vince, I…oh, hey Fossil. What's up?"_

Bollocks. Bollocks to Fossil. Bollocks to himself. What would he have said, if they hadn't been interrupted that day in the shop? Howard didn't know. Feelings were stirring within him, feelings he couldn't quite understand. But by god, he wanted the chance to understand them one day. And the only way to do that, was to deal with that knife-wielding monkey bitches below him. He began rummaging through his rucksack, and removed something which Naboo had packed for him but probably hoped he'd never have to use – a curved hunting knife. Not waiting for panic to re-enter his consciousness, he pulled his rucksack back on, and knife between his teeth, worked his way down onto the forest floor, looking around wildly for his foes. The monkeys must have heard his landing, for they appeared in front of him in a matter of seconds.

"You come back to give face now?"

"I told you. You're not taking my face" Howard stated with false confidence.

"Then we use cut-cut on you. Me first." The ape speaking was one of the biggest, and he moved towards Howard as the others formed a sort of circle around them both. Howard's challenger retrieved his blade, holding it high, and Howard, panicking, mimicked him. This was one of those things that would sound hilarious if recounted by Vince, he thought. God, he wished Vince was here.

The monkey rushed at Howard, knife aloft, and miraculously Howard dodged the attack, spinning around and giving the monkey a good kick in the side. He couldn't quite bring himself to use the knife, but by god he was going to put his legs to work! The monkeys around them began to chant "Get his face! Rip it off!" which was hardly encouraging. His attacker made another swish of the blade, and though Howard ducked to avoid a fatal blow, the knife caught him on the shoulder. In a reflex against the pain blossoming down his arm, he kicked his attacker again, harder this time, sending him skidding along the ground. The other monkeys screamed and chanted, and just as his attacker was preparing to launch at him again, a hush came over the forest.

Then Howard heard a swishing sound coming through the canopy, and then suddenly a larger monkey creature – bigger than the rest and wearing a head-dress of coloured feathers – came to the fore. The monkey chief. It turned to the others before fully noticing Howard.

"I hear you find man with man face – is this true?"

"True, true, yes! We find man with face for you, chief. He being a bit rude, not giving us face, but we will kill him first, then take face. That easier."

Howard was just preparing to escape from sight, clutching at his wounded shoulder when the monkey chief peered down at him for the first time, and let out a strange noise which sounded like…laughter?

"Ooh ooh ooh. You silly troops. I no want this face! This no face! This a round pink ball! Have you ever seen man face before?"

The other monkey creatures bowed their heads in shame. "No, we no ever see a real man face before. Only what you tell us. Two legs, two arms, naked and draped in cloth, round bit on top where face is."

The chief laughed again. "This man is human, yes, but no face! I need proper human face to lead with power, not pink round face! Where is eyes, where is nose, where is mouth?"

"Hey", Howard piped up indignantly (against his better judgment), "I'll have you know that while yes, my face may come across to some as generic, to the trained eye there are examples of exquisite natural design in my features, and…" he trailed off as he caught the irate glare of the chief. "Well look, I may not have a face to offer you, but I can give you a picture of one you might like!" he fished into his pocket and brought out one of Vince's signed publicity shots – Howard had snatched it from Vince's bedroom in a moment of loneliness before he had set off on his journey. The chief leaned down from his perch in the vines and took it, examining it for just a minute before roaring out again, but this time in glee.

"This more like it. You please us with picture of perfect face, silly pink man. You will not die. You be rewarded. Come forward, you look into vision-maker."

Curiously, Howard followed the swinging monkeys forward, through a dense patch of greenery. Once again he found himself in the strange position of befriending creatures which, only minutes beforehand, had been trying to kill him. He missed seeing friends that didn't want to kill you. Before him lay an ancient-looking pond.

"This is vision-maker" explained the chief from above. "Very old. Very wise. You look in here, you see future."

"You can see the future?" exclaimed Howard. "That's incredible! Can I…"

"Go ahead, human."

Howard peered tentatively into the water, thrilled at the prospect of experiencing such a rare innovation. To see what the future held in store…what a gift! The ripples in the water began to merge suddenly, and his own reflection became warped, dissolving slowly into a new image…it was himself…and…Naboo…yes, the two of them…in the living room back in the flat…they were hugging. Naboo and him, embracing each other. What on earth? Howard peered in more closely as the two figures broke contact and looked at each other.

"_Howard. God. I'm…I'm so sorry."_

Naboo's face was tear-stained. So, noticed Howard, was his own.

"_I don't blame you…"_ came his own voice, strangled with emotion.

The vision began to dissolve back into Howard's own reflection. Seized by a force he couldn't contain, Howard smashed his good arm into the water, sending splashes off in every direction.

"No! No!"

"What wrong, pink face man?" queried the monkey chief. "All creatures love vision-maker. Come from all across planet to seek it."

"Is this real? IS THIS REAL?" bellowed Howard.

"Real, yes. Very real. Mystic forces show future."

"But…is it the only future? Can it be changed?"

"Silly man. You see something you no like? Future is future. Like past. Cannot be changed. It already set."

"No. I…Vince...it can't...I haven't even...no...oh god..." Howard felt emotion hitch up inside him, but for the millionth time, forced it back down inside. "No. I refuse to believe it can't be changed. Bollocks to your vision-maker. Bollocks to you all." And with that, Howard stormed off into the forest, leaving the confused monkey tribe behind.

"Wait, silly pink man" called the monkey chief. "You pass test!"

"What?"

"You pass test! This vision-maker is test. Many creatures go mad here, looking at future. Only creatures who have will and determined spirit can pass. You pass!"

"So, it was just a test! That's all!"

"Yes, a test."

"Oh thank god. It was just fiction, then? Not a real vision?"

"Oh, no, it real. It real future."

"…oh. Goodbye." Howard turned away once again, his shoulder pulsing and his skin buzzing all over.

How he reached the other edge of the Forest of Naang, he didn't know. He was charged by emotions so intense that he had to walk, almost run, through the undergrowth, breathing heavily and persevering even as he stumbled, desperate to run from the vision, to forget it, to erase it completely. It wasn't…it couldn't…no. No, no, no. Never. He has seen enough crazy things in his life to know that nothing was fixed, nothing was certain. Especially not…oh god…no, no, _no_.

Somehow, through the deep mist of these jagged feelings, Howard emerged from the forest to see an enormous castle in the near distance, dominating the landscape. The Darxeetan High Fortress. He fell to his knees, those long-suppressed tears threatening to come flooding out. He found himself whispering.

"Vince. Vince. Hold on little man. I'm coming for you."

* * *

**A/N Okay, finally getting somewhere! Plz review - Howard needs support!**


	6. Inside the Fortress

**A/N This chapter is kinda long, but a lot started to happen and it was hard to get it all down! Also, this chapter is pretty angsty and intense, in terms of violence I can always up the rating if it's a problem for anyone. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Looking ahead to what looked like the back end of the fortress, Howard took in a deep breath of air and pondered his next move. His pulse was quickening at the mere sight of the gargantuan building, just knowing that Vince was somewhere inside, so close and yet still so unreachable. He needed advice – he needed Naboo. Peering down at his hand, half-expecting Naboo to cut into his thoughts at that moment, Howard realized with shock that his ring was gone. What? Gone? He peered around at the grass and dirt, imagining that he had perhaps only just dropped it. God, where was it?

…he suddenly remembered that he hadn't heard from Naboo since before he left the Phetargan camp. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized the time passing. Feeling a cold sweat pricking the back of his neck, he realized that he could have lost the ring anywhere between the plains and the forest…back at the camp, up a tree, in the confrontation with the monkeys, anywhere. No…this wasn't right. He couldn't go alone. Not really, properly, alone. He dropped to his hands and knees, wincing from the pain in his shoulder and chest, feeling around frantically in the undergrowth. Not here…not here…not there…not anywhere in sight. Hopeless. He had lost all contact with Earth. With home. With everything that linked him to Vince. Idiot, Howard, you idiot!

He rose back to his feet, returning his gaze to the castle ahead, focusing his attention back on the mission. For all he knew, he had been traveling alone for a whole day, facing all sorts of danger without Naboo's help. And he'd just have to keep that up. But what to do next? He didn't want to waste the Phetargan charm until he was inside the fortress… he thought back to the old adventure films Vince used to make him watch on their many movie nights back at the flat. The heroes in those films usually snuck up in the shadows...he could do that! Sure he could! He was Howard Moon, shadow-dweller! Don't need any shamanic advice, don't need any magic spells! Just good, old-fashioned sneaking around!

Taking advantage of the undergrowth which crept up the short path towards the fortress, Howard began moving forward.

_**Seven minutes later…**_

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Howard, creeping through a bushy shadow, nearly jumped right out of his skin. He turned slowly and saw the speaker – a tall, elongated humanoid with bright yellow skin, dressed in military garb and brandishing a whole war museum full of weaponry. A Darxeetan soldier.

"Er, I…" Howard stepped out of the shadows, trying desperately to muster up a response.

"You're late. How dare you mock us with your lateness."

Howard was suddenly really confused, but fortunately didn't show it and had the quick thinking to work with what he'd been given. "I do apologize, you see, I fell over in these bushes, and I…sprained my…foot. Ankle." Fuck.

"The Emperor will be displeased at your lack of punctuality. To make up for your rudeness, you will be required to do twice as well as your predecessor, or you shall be shot on the spot. Understood?"

"Oh…yeah. Definitely."

"Come, quickly. I can allow you ten minutes to prepare, and that is it."

Nodding numbly, Howard followed the soldier up the path and through the massive iron gates, incorporating a slight limp into his steps and mentally forcing himself to remember what foot he was supposed to have injured. They had to pass several other guards, similar looking, but they didn't bat an eyelid at him; they were conversing with each other.

"You'd wonder whether they don't hear the screaming, really, setting him up right above the theatre" said one.

Howard strained to catch the conversation as the other guard replied,

"Hey, it's a free show; I don't see anyone complaining! Pathetic little boy-girl like that, maybe it'll do him good to know people are tuning in."

It was almost too much for Howard's brain and heart to take in – juggling his acting ability with the solider he was walking with, his lookout for a chance to escape, his attempt to work out who the Darxeetans thought he was, and now this…Vince…it had to be Vince. _Right above the theatre. Theatre. Above the theatre. Right above the theatre. … Screaming…_ no, forget the screaming. Can't. No - no time. No time at all.

Once inside, the immense proportions of the fortress were stunning – it was like a city within a castle, with walls stretching up as far as the eye could see. Only, Howard didn't really have time to appreciate the architecture. He was too busy wracking his brains for what to do next…he had gained entry, so he had something to feel hopeful about (though it wasn't really his achievement so much as his mistake…), but now he'd somehow gotten himself mistaken as…as what? What was he expected to do? And how was he meant to out-do his predecessor if he didn't know who his predecessor was? Overheard, Howard noticed a huge warning sign, written in the same lines and squiggles that the ransom note had been written in. "What does that say?" he ventured, bravely.

The guard grunted. "That? Oh, new protocol. The entire fortress has been blocked from any teleportation devices. New rule only came in a few days ago – no one teleports in or out of the castle grounds. It's a pain for us employees; so much extra walking around." Howard nodded, feigning mild interest, and inwardly cursing. On top of everything else, he was going to have to get Vince outside the castle before they could use the teleportation stone. What else could possibly go wrong?

Turning a corner, the soldier led Howard into a grand hallway, and gestured ahead. "Your room is the first on the left. Four minutes."

"I thought you said ten?!"

"That was six minutes ago" said the soldier, stationing himself firmly in the hall. Howard heard a strangled scream coming from somewhere within the castle and hoped it wasn't his predecessor. Then he realized it could well have been Vince screaming, and he had to fight not to throw up.

Instead he rushed into the room and closed the door behind him, mind racing, eyes darting around the room manically for a clue to his mistaken identity. Nothing much of any interest; a mirror, a chair and a table, a few bits and pieces lying around. God, what was he meant to be doing?! Bollocks, he thought, now was the best chance he had to make an invisible escape. He felt for the Phetargan charm inside his pocket, and found it easily. Above the theatre, above the theatre. Thirty minutes for the charm. It had to be now. Just –

"Time is up." Without warning the Darxeetan guard entered, now with a foot soldier accompanying him. Howard thankfully got the charm back into his pocket before either of them noticed. They marched Howard out of the room, motioning first for him to leave behind his rucksack. Howard cursed himself for not foreseeing this problem…he had weapons and food and all kinds of things in that pack – he couldn't very well rescue Vince without it.

"Er, no, you see, I need it."

"You require the rucksack on stage?"

_On stage? What?!_

"Yeah. Yes. I do."

"Why is that exactly?"

Howard wracked his brain for a response which wouldn't give away the fact that he had no idea what his job description was. "Er, why? Is it unusual for… performers… to make use of… props… on stage?"

The foot soldier nudged the guard, grinning. "Na, there was that one time, d'you remember, Xarnet? That bloke who came on with a sack full of fruit? He was pretty unique!"

The guard chuckled in reply. "Ah, yes, I do remember. He was good value, that fruit bloke. Did we shoot him?"

"Yeah. Wait, no. You know, I can't even remember!" laughed the foot solider.

By this stage, the Darxeetan officials were so caught up in their banter than they had somewhat forgotten about Howard's rucksack. Soon they approached yet another doorway, this one small and undecorated. A back-entrance to something, thought Howard. The Darxeetans pushed Howard towards the door.

"Good luck. You shall need it."

His stomach clenched tight as a fist with nerves, Howard stepped through the door, and into a spacious darkness. Suddenly, a spotlight was pointed at him from above, and a round of applause sounded out from what appeared to be a huge audience. As the applause petered out, Howard thought he might faint with nervousness – what were they expecting from him? A bit late to ask, really. Music? Well, he didn't have an instrument with him. Plus there was always a risk of being visited by the spirit of jazz…did he do interplanetary calls? Or maybe they were expecting acting? But Howard had nothing prepared, and anyway it'd just lead to the chokes, and he couldn't afford to be frozen right now. Needed his wits. He wished he could crimp; everyone likes a good crimp, but without Vince it was useless. Oh God, the applause was coming to almost a complete finish…

"Hello" said Howard, for lack of a better introduction to his performance of absolutely nothing. The audience remained silent.

"My name is H –" Howard suddenly cut himself off, remembering his mistaken identity and now realizing he had trapped himself by mentioning names…fuck, this wasn't going well.

"My name…my name…mmm…you see…I go by many names." Howard manically threw that out there, hoping something could come from it. God, he was going to have to list these bloody names now.

"Some call me…Miraculous Mark. Others know me as…the Shadow Dweller." Howard was so busy frantically listing off these nonsense names that he failed to realize sound of the audience's laughter getting louder.

"Some call me…Chili Chicken Ramen…others know me as…Domino, the bounty hunter." The audience was laughing so loudly now that Howard couldn't miss it – was this a good thing? Were they meant to be laughing? No one had shot him yet, which was definitely a good start. Nothing for it but to keep reeling off these ridiculous names.

"Some call me…Secret Peter…others know me as…Peppercorn." The laughter kept coming.

"Some call me…Clive…" Oh Jesus, he was running out of names. "…others know me as…aaaeeeooooooo…." The absurd sound which Howard belted out in a last minute desperation roused the loudest laughter yet. And from somewhere above, music began to play and the audience broke into applause. As the lights went up, Howard took a petrified bow. A Darxeetan voice through a speak system sounded out through the applause.

"You have succeeded in your performance tonight. You have pleased the Emperor. You shall not be shot."

A big red curtain dropped down in front of Howard, temporarily cutting him off from the audience. He stood alone, exhilarated and shaking, hearing the sounds of backstage officials approaching from the wings of the theatre. Theatre. _Above the theatre. _Now or never, he thought, and with that he threw the Phetargan charm into his mouth and swallowed, baulking at the sour taste. In the blink of an eye, his arms disappeared from view. Then his torso, his hips and legs and feet, the clothing and the rucksack too. It had worked!

"Hey, where'd he…" A female Darxeetan looked confusedly around the area behind the curtains. "He was just here a minute ago…" Several other officials followed her, sharing in her confusion. One of the younger foot soldiers sighed. "Dammit, I thought he was going to be the future of comedy!"

Howard spent the next ten minutes racing through the castle, up and around staircases, attempting to make his way towards the area directly above the theatre. He had to pass through several crowded rooms, but he soon learnt that as long as he remained silent and didn't bash into anyone, he was completely free to run around at will. It would have been a liberating feeling, if he wasn't so terrifyingly worried about Vince. Racing up another twisted set of stairs, he checked his watch – twenty minutes left. He had been memorizing the way out of the fortress, and it would take five minutes at most. Find Vince in the next five, and have another ten to get as far away from the castle as possible. How he would get Vince out without causing a catastrophe, he hadn't quite thought of yet. It was the getting to Vince that mattered right now. That is, if Vince wasn't already…

His breath caught in his throat as he passed a room with a large glass screen making up its biggest wall. Like a viewing room. Something about it made his stomach church, and he entered. A few rows of chair, some desks, and on the other side of the glass wall…

Vince.

Time stopped. Everything stopped. Vince.

He was strapped into a chair, shirtless and disheveled, with something looking awfully like electrodes attached to his face and chest and fingers. His hair had been cut in part at the front but most of its length remained, covering his face. His head was bobbing slowly, like a ragdoll. And he was alive.

Howard scrambled madly through the door that connected the two rooms, emerging on the other side of the viewing window and stumbling towards Vince, who seemed to be murmuring to himself. A Darxeetan guard suddenly approached, and Howard kept back a little, waiting, inwardly pleading for him to leave.

"Hello princess" the guard said coldly. Vince raised his head slowly, and for the first time, Howard could see his features. It made his blood run cold. Vince was covered in cuts and bruises – his left eye was inflamed almost beyond recognition, and his lips were swollen and bleeding a little. Howard could still hear a strange sound coming from Vince, even as he looked back at the guard – it sounded like a whispered mantra, a Buddhist chant or something. Had Vince lost his mind? Howard edged closer, avoiding the side of the room taken by the Darxeetans. He was close enough to touch Vince now, and every part of him ached to pull his friend into a hug, to bring him water, to cut him free of this cruelty.

"Fancy some more electro, you ponce?" The guard flicked a switch, and Vince's already limp body jolted upright for a second, spasming before falling back down. Howard bit down on his lip so hard that he could taste blood. The guard was administering electric shocks. Vince made no response, just kept his head down, muttering his nonsense chant.

"They're not coming for you, princess. Maybe we made a mistake taking you as a hostage. I don't think you matter enough to anyone. And you know what? Even if they do send the money, I reckon I might just keep you for myself." Another shock, sending Vince's body into a brief fury. "Loving the electro, aren't you?"

Howard began to shake uncontrollably, clutching his hands into fists, knuckles going white, whiter still.

"Though, to be honest, I think I'd rather a bit of good, old-fashioned slice and dice" continued the guard, pulling out a small pointy blade. Howard's breaths grew deeper and deeper. Vince could see the knife, and pitifully tried to hide from it by struggling and tucking himself into a ball in the chair, continuing his mantra. The guard crept up close to Vince, so they were almost face-to-face, dangling the knife over Vince's torso, tracing the contours of his neck. Vince's struggling grew less – he merely balled himself up more tightly and closed his eyes, his muttered chanting rising in pitch as if he wanted to block out everything around him. It was only then that Howard could hear what Vince has been muttering.

"Howard'll come. Howard'll come. Howard'll come. Howard'll come."

Oh, God. Every inch of Howard burned for Vince. Burned so fiercely he could hardly contain it.

"Come on, pretty thing. How's about we do something with your eyes this time? I mean, sure, you want to be able to see – hell, I want you to see what we're doing to you too. But do you really need two of those things? I'm thinking, you don't."

The guard lifted his razor-sharp blade to Vince's face, using his other hand to keep his head still, and the knife edged closer and closer to Vince's eye.

Howard heard Vince break his mantra to loudly let out pained choked sob. The guard dropped the knife. Howard felt relief rush through him. Then, suddenly, horror. The guard was staring right at him. His own face was wet, his vision blurry. Oh god…it hadn't been Vince's sob – it had been himself. He had broken the charm! The guard took a few menacing steps towards him, and Howard began feeling for a weapon. It was useless though – five enormous guards entered the room at that moment, and another three from the other side. Trapped. Resigned to this fact, he ran down the unblocked path back to Vince, and grabbed his face roughly, desperately. Vince cried out a little, and struggled from his grip. Howard's heart broke.

"Vince. Vince! It's me, little man!" The guards were advancing.

"Vince, please, it's Howard!"

Vince's eyes lit up suddenly, staring at Howard with a confused awe before letting out a whimper and bursting into tears. "Howard'll come…"

"That's it, Vince, that's right." Howard felt the guards grab him by the shoulders.  
"I will come back for you. Hang on. Please." Vince only sobbed back in response, his head rubbing into Howard's.

The guards began to drag Howard away. Everything but Vince faded out into a blur, and Howard summoned up a burst of energy, breaking free of the guards and running back to Vince, saving five seconds before they grabbed him again. Reaching the chair, he pulled Vince into an embrace, and Vince seemed to shake himself out of his mental fugue enough to return the hug tightly, both men shaking.

"I love you. Please hang on." Howard whispered.

"Howard'll come…" muttered back Vince, though the light in his eyes showed more understanding than his words suggested. Howard breathed in Vince's smell, triggering a hundred thousand memories of back home, and placed a kiss to Vince's head before feeling the rough hands of the Darxeetan guards dragging him out of the room.

* * *

**Phew. I'm kinda exhaused now. Oh, and o****bviously I don't own any of Howard's lines in the theatre - they were all performed by Julian Barratt as Rudi in the live show. I wasn't expecting to use those lines, it kinda evolved that way by itself! Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn't too much. No nice flashbacks or anything. Review and let me know!**


	7. Through the Glass

**A/N Okay, I've been updating pretty quickly, because I've just GOT to get through the fortress stuff - it's kinda crazy to write. Also, I've got exams coming up, and there'll probably be a bigger wait between chapters in the near future, so I'm trying to get as much done now as I can! As with the previous chapter, lots of angst and violence. Calmer stuff on the horizon, I promise!**

**A/N2 For some reason this chapter has been giving me upload problems, so apologies to anyone if it was stuffing them around like it was stuffing me around. I'm re-uploading it now so hopefully it should be okay. **

* * *

In a matter of minutes, Howard was blindfolded, pulled into a room somewhere close to where Vince was being held, perhaps only next door, and thrust into a chair, restraints applied to his body. Then, a sharp blow to the head, and all faded to black.

Some time later, though how long, Howard had no idea, reality started seeping back in. The sounds around him were a blur of shouts and laughs, and inside he was burning with a white rage, powerless to act out. He felt his shirt being ripped open roughly. The first time that had ever happened to him, and it was to for torture, not for pleasure. Absurdly, this thought made him want to giggle. He felt cold pinches in several places on his torso, on his limbs, his forehead, and realized numbly that he was going to receive the same treatment as Vince. Just as he was beginning to feel awfully claustrophobic under the blindfold, the anticipation of the unknown becoming too much for him, the blindfold was removed. The first thing he saw was a table lined with an assortment of twisted pointy steel contraptions, and shifting his gaze to the ground, he immediately wished for the darkness again.

A Darxeetan guard with a mean smile stepped into his vision. "Ah, the comedian is awake. We were beginning to worry that we struck you too hard. So, comedian, tell us a joke."

Howard remained silent, his eyes locked on the floor.

"C'mon funnyman. We hear you were quite the success downstairs" sneered the guard.

Bubbling over with fear and hate, Howard just concentrated on breathing deeply, in and out, trying to keep his focus.

"You don't want to tell us a joke? No? Maybe I should tickle your funny-bone."

A burst of electricity jolted through Howard's body, lasting only a second but so intense that all his nerve-endings were screaming out in its wake. Howard gritted his teeth and tried his hardest not to give the guard the satisfaction of showing his pain. Only the softest moan escaped his mouth.

The guard chuckled to himself. "That was a good joke. Very funny. But I would very much like to hear some more jokes. Louder jokes. Better punchlines."

Another, stronger jolt of electricity exploded into Howard. His limbs shook uncontrollably, his vision becoming a searing white heat, his burning lungs bursting for air. He couldn't help it – he screamed – and as soon as he did, the shock disappeared. Eyes closed, exhausted, he could hear the guard chuckling again.

"Much better. Now you have seen what we can do to you, it is time for you to think about doing something for us."

Howard still remained silent.

"Naboo of Xooberon is an affiliate of yours. We need to know how to break the barrier spells he has cast over his residence in Dalston, Earth. You live and work with Naboo, do you not?"

Howard opted to sustain his silence, still gritting his teeth and staring at the ground. The guard flicked a switch and the awful tearing electricity came back in a pulsing wave, as if ripping his nerve-endings out of his skin…

"…yes…YES! I do, I do, please stop, please stop…" Howard ashamedly gave in to the pain, and the guard complied in return, the shock retreating once again.

"You therefore have knowledge of the store and of Naboo's magic usage. You will tell us how to break this spell, so that we can get our money from him directly. Our Emperor grows bored and impatient with the hostage, and your time is up."

"But I don't…I don't know how to…I don't know anything about magic."

"You are lying. Did you not charm yourself to sneak out of the theatre unnoticed only a few days ago?"

_Days? A few __days?_

"I…yes, but that wasn't my magic…and it wasn't Naboo's…I don't know what spell Naboo put over the shop, honestly…"

"Unfortunately I do not believe you. I have no choice but to force the information out of you."

"No, no! Please! I swear!" Howard hated himself for pleading so childishly with the brute, but his fear of the electric shocks overrode any other impulses.

"Enough. You speak only lies. But our electric therapy will bring out truth. It may take hours, but it never fails."

"Please…" Howard's voice was cut off by the guard administering a pulse of electricity more powerful than ever, sending invisible daggers mincing through Howard's flesh and bones. Only this time, the pain didn't subside after a few seconds. It grew greater and greater, until Howard's voice became a jumbled mess of sporadic thought patterns…

"…no... NO… please… I don't… fuck… god… I told you… can't you… I'll do anything… just please… fuck… GOD… ugh… arghhh… Vince… please don't… Vince… oh god oh god… Vince…"

After a few minutes, though Howard's body registered it as a second lifetime, the pain subsided. Tears were flowing freely down Howard's chin, mingling with beads of sweat and saliva. The guard paced up and down the room several times, before stopping in front of Howard's chair and leaning down to meet him.

"You're being quite stubborn, aren't you? Just like your friend."

"Vin…Vince…"

"That's the one. He put up quite the resistance too. Claims he knows nothing. I think my associate used the shocks on him a little too often, actually. We had to give him a breather. Mostly useless for information. And useless for everything else, as far as I can tell. Disgusting little specimen, isn't he? A man masquerading as a girl – did you know he was wearing lip gloss when we abducted him? Makes me sick. Useless creature. He's only alive because he's been so much fun to torture. You on the other hand…"

"You…shut up…about Vince."

The guard guffawed. "Haha, what's this? You love the little dog?"

"You…hurt him again…and I swear..."

"Hahaha, this is priceless! And what makes your lovesick little threats even funnier is the fact that you're in absolutely no position to carry through with them! Look around, you fool, you're a rat in a cage!" the guard continued laughing to himself, all the while toying with the torture instruments lying on the table. "The Emperor was right, you are a gifted comedian!"

"I am going to kill you" muttered Howard quietly, through gritted teeth, aware that his threats wouldn't do him any favors but unable to stop himself from speaking out.

"Oh, I'm terrified" mocked the guard. "Maybe you need some reminding that I'm the one with the power." The flicked the switch, and the pain came roaring in again. "Feel that?" the guard shouted over the buzzing sound. "That's what power feels like!" Howard only cried out in response, and soon the current was turned off again. The guard sighed.

"It doesn't look as if you're going to be very cooperative. Are all earthlings like this, or is it just you two? Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I've realized something. I think, perhaps, that your weakness isn't the shock machine. I think, perhaps, that it's the whimpering little wreck in the next room. Maybe he will help you tell us the truth. Shall we find out?"

Howard heard the guard flick a switch, and he tensed himself in anticipation of the electric current. But it didn't come. Opening his eyes, he realized that the guard had merely turned on a light. Another switch was flicked, and Howard felt his chair rotating on an automated machine so that it was facing the opposite wall of the small room. As he rotated, he wondered why the guard would want him to be facing…oh.

Oh, no.

Directly facing him now was a previously enormous glass panel, and on the other side was Vince, still strapped to the chair. Still alive. He was still alive.

"Vince! Vince!" Howard yelled out instinctually.

"Fool, he can't hear you. Or see you. Only you have that privilege" sneered the guard. "Sound-proof two-way mirrors. The fun you can have with these things are endless."

"_Vince!"_ hollered Howard, knowing it was futile but trying nonetheless.

"Really, you're wasting your time. Now this is how it's going to go. I'm going to ask you questions, and if you refuse to answer me, my associate in the other room there will do something nasty to your mate. If you comply, then maybe I'll think about reconsidering."

"But I…I don't know how to break the spell…I don't know how!"

"Stop trying to buy yourself time. Just sit back and enjoy the show. We've given the hostage a few days break from torture – fed him up a bit, let him sleep – so he'll seem a lot peppier than when you last saw him. You see, it's much more fun to watch if there's more for him to lose."

Across the glass, another Darxeetan guard strolled into the room, approaching Vince slowly and coming to a halt next to his chair. Howard's guard rubbed his hands together. "Right, time to begin. Listen very closely, funnyman. What kind of spell did Naboo cast over his shop?"

"I don't know! God, I _swear_, I don't know! I don't know _anything_!"

"Righto then. Your choice." Howard's guard began tapping on a buzzer on the wall, presumably signaling to the Darxeetan across the glass. Howard listened to the pattern…was it…yes! Morse code! He knew Morse code – he'd learnt it from the Global Explorer. He inwardly deciphered the message as it was tapped out – "B-U-R-N T-H-E H-O-S-T-A-G-E." Howard held his breath.

Vince's guard gave Vince a little tap on the side of the head, and the electro boy came to life immediately, twisting his head around in the chair.

"Fuck off!" His voice was loud and clear – the few days rest had indeed allowed him to gain a better grasp on reality.

"Ooh, calm down, princess. Just wanted to play!"

"Fuck _off! _You come near me and I'll tear you a new one!_"_

Howard's eyes were glued on Vince. Despite the sense of horror, he couldn't help but feel pride swell in his chest for his friend. Across the glass, the guard smiled mockingly.

"Energetic, I like it. Now, how's about a little fun." The guard picked something up off the table next to him – a tiny poker, glowing bright red at the end. Without further hesitation, he delicately pressed it against Vince's chest, forcing out an anguished scream that Howard matched with his own.

"No! You monsters, leave him alone! Stop it!"

"All you have to do is tell us what you know, and he _will _stop it" murmured Howard's guard.

"I _told_ you! I don't know _anything!"_

"Maybe it's time to up the ante then." Howard's guard tapped in a new message to his associate – Howard listened intently – "N-O R-E-S-U-L-T, C-U-T H-I-M."

Across the glass, the guard put down the poker and picked up a knife. "Maybe a bit of time with Mr. Knife, then."

Vince spat in the guard's face.

The guard responded by beginning to carve a slow line into Vince's stomach – not a deep cut, but deep enough to draw blood and force Vince into a spasm. Watching, Howard felt as if he might have a heart attack at any minute, or explode into flames, or dissolve through the cracks in the floor.

"Please, god, stop hurting him! I'll do anything!" he stuttered.

"Except tell us what we want to hear."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you!" Howard squeaked desperately. "You can break the spell by…by coating the shop doorframe in…Marmite!"

"I hope you do not think I am stupid enough to take you seriously."

Across the glass, Vince's guard continued the slow slice of the knife. Vince was now curled forward, muttering to himself forcefully. A sob catching in his throat, Howard realized it was the same mantra as before. "Howard'll come, Howard'll come."

The guard picked up on this and ceased cutting. "Howard'll come, you say? That's your mate, the funny one. You think he's coming to get you, is that right?"

Vince raised his head, his eyes burning with determination. "He _will_. He's coming for me. You wait."

"Howard is dead" replied the guard coldly.

Vince seemed to drop a shade paler in an instant. "Wh-what? No."

"He's dead. We shot him in the back of the head two days ago. Threw his corpse in the river."

Watching, Howard threw himself against his restraints, yelling as loud as he could, "Vince, Vince! Don't listen to him! I'm right here!", knowing all the while that it was futile.

Vince began to shake, his voice wavering. "No, but you…you needed him. You said you did. Information. You wouldn't…"

"I can assure you that he is dead. I could go and retrieve the corpse to show you, if you wish, but after a gunshot to the head and a few days with the fish, I doubt he'd be very recognizable."

Something in Vince seemed to break, and he burst into tears, growling and letting out low moans like an animal, spitting out choked words.

"He said…he said he'd come…he said so… Howard… you promised…"

Unable to take another second, Howard lunged forwards, his tired body thrashing about as if receiving another electric shock, as if his energy coming from somewhere outside of himself. There was a loud cracking sound, and his chair ripped out from the ground. He threw himself, chair still attached, at the guard; all movement, no thought. The guard, taken unawares, fell back, bashing his head on the corner of the table, and fell to the ground, motionless.

Not wasting any time dwelling on the surprise at his success, Howard grabbed one of the torture knives and used it to free himself of his binding to the chair, kicking the unconscious guard once more in the stomach for good measure. Moving quickly, he stepped up to the glass, finding the buzzer that transmitted into the opposite room. Having to concentrate hard to control his trembling, he tapped into the buzzer: "E-N-O-U-G-H F-O-R N-O-W. T-A-K-E A B-R-E-A-K." Vince's guard looked up at the glass confusedly, unknowingly locking eyes with Howard, who panicked for a minute that the guard might want to talk to his associate. But no, he gave a thumbs up signal and a salute, and left the room. The Global Explorer was good for something, after all, thought Howard, reminding himself to tell that to Vince if he…_when_ he got him home.

Vince. Howard ran for the door and found it locked. He smashed his fists into the frame in frustration, regretting the action instantly as pain shot through his already aching limbs. He quickly searched the unconscious body of the guard for keys, a security pass, but found nothing. Then he noticed a panel set into the wall with a set of symbols and squiggles on buttons – god, a security code needed to get in and out. He didn't even know the language, let alone the code.

"Howard I'm sorry, Howard I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Howard, I am, I'm sorry…"

Howard whipped around at the sound of Vince's voice, staring straight ahead at him unknowingly, tears streaking down his face, shuddering pitifully in the chair. He rushed to the glass and pounded on it, yelling Vince's name, but it was no use. Moving to the Morse code buzzer, he began tapping in frantically "V-I-N-C-E I-T-S H-O-W-A-R-D" but received no response. Why would Vince know Morse code? He couldn't even pay the gas bill.

"Please, Howard, I'm sorry, I am…"

Acting on pure impulse, Howard seized the discarded chair behind him, took several steps back holding it high above his head, and rushed at the two-way mirror, throwing the chair hard, shattering the glass and brushing off fragments as he ran to meet Vince.

Vince looked up with shock, and then, seeing Howard, with a deep loneliness in his eyes. "Don't do this…stop doing this…I can't keep seeing you…it's not fair…"

Howard knelt down, cupping Vince's cheeks in his hands. "Vince, it's me. I'm not dead. They lied to you."

"I can't keep seeing this… it's too hard… it's not real" Vince murmured.

"Vince!" Howard slapped Vince lightly across the face, and the younger man blinked, locking eyes with Howard, something dawning. "Oh god… are you real?"

"As real as you are, little man" half-whispered Howard, darting his vision over Vince's injuries, tears pricking his eyes.

"You…you came back for me." Vince pressed his tired head against Howard's chest, nuzzling like a newborn.

"Howard Moon keeps his promises, yes sir." Howard broke the closeness to release him of the chair, lifting him to his feet slowly. "Can you walk alright?"

Vince took a step forward gingerly. "Y-yeah…it's been a while."

"Take my hand" Howard offered. Vince gripped it tightly, looking up and down at the older man as if he still couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"You're hurt. Howard, how did you…"

"I'll explain later. Now we've got to focus on getting you out of here."

Vince gave Howard's hand an extra squeeze. "I thought you were dead. Dead, Howard. It felt like the end of…everything." His voice wavered and broke on the last word, and he pulled Howard into the warmest closest hug Howard had ever experienced. He ran his fingers through Vince's hair, his wounds aching less with each second he spent in his friend's embrace.

Behind them, silently, a door-handle turned…

* * *

**Yet another cliffy, I know. Ah well. Clicky and reviewy pretty pleasey!**


	8. Alone in the Wilderness

**A/N Yeah, I know, another update. I realise I'm probably uploading these chapters too quickly, but I have had the whole story planned out in my head up to this particular chapter, and I was really eager to get it all up before it lost its spark (in my head, lol). After this one, my imagination is flying solo...eek. Hope you enjoy. Also, thankyou so much to all the people who have been reading and reviewing so far. Big love to all.**

* * *

Howard was so momentarily caught up in Vince's warmth that he failed to notice the door opening behind him.

"Freeze!"

Howard and Vince sprung apart, turning to face the terrifying sight of fifteen, maybe twenty Darxeetan guards entering the room, all armed to the teeth.

"The time for indulgence is now over" boomed the guard at the front of the pack. "You have tested our patience for too long. You have injured a soldier, and damaged Darxeetan property. The penalty is death." Several guards stepped forward, brandishing rifles.

Vince let out a whimper, and reached instinctively for Howard's hand. Howard, tired and frightened, had run out of luck and ideas.

"Vince, I'm sorry" he muttered, not taking his eyes off the guards.

"Don't be" Vince muttered back. "You kept your promise. You…you came back for me."

The guards took another step forward.

"It's all over, isn't it Howard."

"Looks that way, I'm afraid."

"I'm…I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

The guards cocked their rifles, checking for ammunition. Howard felt Vince shaking, and pulled him close, holding his head against his own chest so that Vince couldn't see anything, whispering to him.

"It's okay, little man. You won't feel a thing."

"Ready?" boomed the head guard.

"Ready, boss" replied the gunmen.

Howard, too, closed his eyes, his pulse racing, glued to the spot with terror. This is it. The end. Don't think about the bullet. Will it be him or Vince first? Don't think about the bullet. Don't think about it. Think of good things… Vince… cups of tea… stationary village… jazz…

"Aim…" boomed the guard.

Trying desperately to calm himself in face of death like a Man of Action ought to do, Howard began scatting to himself under his breath. Bizarrely, it seemed to distract him a little. "Skee-wap, diddly doo wop-wop…"

So intensely was he focusing on scatting, almost entering into a self-induced jazz trance, Howard didn't notice Vince tugging impatiently at his elbow. Finally Vince poked him hard. "Howard…look!"

Howard opened his eyes. All the Darxeetan guards were falling to the ground, quivering, hands clapped over their ears.

"Noooo… the scat… the poison scat… it burns… it burns!"

Vince looked at his friend excitedly. "Howard, I never thought I'd say this, but don't stop scatting!"

Howard continued, loudly, scatting like he'd never scatted before, putting Howling Jimmy Jefferson to shame as sounds rolled out of his mouth unstoppably. He thrashed back through the broken glass to retrieve his rucksack, and then grabbed Vince by the hand and bolted through out the opened door behind them, never breaking his rhythm, running down corridors, turning left, right, left again, down staircases, retracing the steps he had mentally memorized on his way up from the theatre.

"Bop bop skee-dilly bop…"

Guards ran at them from all directions, but fell, powerless, as they came within earshot of Howard's powerful scatting. Down, left, left, another set of stairs, through this door, through that door.

"Skee-wap a diddly…"

Guards fell to their hands and knees all around them as they sprinted through the fortress. The gateway was right ahead – opened – the watch guards already falling to the ground. Suddenly, the sound of Howard's scatting was overridden by aggressive sounding growls from the distance. Vince turned his head.

"Howard! They've sent their guard-dogs after us! Run!"

Howard continued scatting, losing his breath, pulling Vince up to his pace, feeling the murderous howls of the dogs closing in on them. Faster – faster – faster. Please.

Vince tripped. Howard's stomach flipped. He stopped for the tiny second that it took to drag Vince back up again and bolt. He dropped his rucksack in the process – _no! NO!_ Can't stop. Scat and run, scat and run. The dogs, unperturbed by scatting, were only meters away, the gnashing of their teeth urging Howard on. Almost at the gateway. Almost.

Just as he could have sworn that he felt the breath of the dogs on the back of his legs, Howard hurtled through the gateway, Vince in tow, grabbing the gate on the way through and slamming it shut behind him. God, the stone, the stone! Vince fell to the ground, and the dogs smashed up against the iron bars a split second later, trying in vain to push their rabid snouts through the metal. Safe! But Howard didn't trust these victories any more; they always led to nasty surprises. Instead of collapsing onto the earth like his exhausted body begged him to do, he breathlessly heaved Vince to his feet, dragging him along behind him, walking at a fast pace away from the fortress gates to anywhere, anywhere else, feeling a hopelessness overwhelm him at the loss of his rucksack with the teleporting stone in it, and all the while scatting for good measure.

xxxx

Howard only felt safe to cease their retreat once he and Vince had entered a small and peaceful-looking woodland area off the west of the Forest of Naang. He stopped broke his grip on Vince's hand, briefly scanning the new territory before slumping down against a tree. Vince wobbled slightly and dropped to a sitting position, his face paler than chalk. Neither of them had spoken in some time, and it felt strange to disturb the quiet of the forest – the ambience of the leaves and wind mingling with their own panted breaths.

"Urgh…" groaned Vince, eventually. "I can't…I think I'm gonna be…" The wounded electro boy turned his head and was sick on the grass. Howard ran – staggered – towards his friend, holding his shoulders until Vince had finished.

"You alright, little man?"

Vince nodded weakly. "You know, I never thought I'd hear you call me that again."

Howard held his gaze. His grand sweeping protectiveness over Vince inside the fortress, and their intense closeness, seemed out of place in this calm woodland. He found himself at a loss for words. Until that is, he noticed Vince shivering, his chest wounds still seeping blood.

"Right, time to get you fixed up. For starters, you should wear this." Howard removed his overshirt, immediately feeling the nip of the evening breeze through his flimsy vest as he helped Vince warm up.

"But you'll be cold, Howard" his friend protested mildly.

"Me? No. I love the cold. Cold air in the lungs – it's great."

"But Howard, you hate the cold. You always complain."

"Rubbish. I'm a Northerner, remember? Northerners live and die by the fresh cold air."

Vince was too weak to protest further, and gladly accepted Howard's offering, curling himself into a ball in the too-big shirt. For a minute, Howard was struck by how adorable Vince looked. Just for a minute.

The boys sat in silence for a while, Howard's heart aching at the loss of his supplies and the teleport stone. If he hadn't dropped his rucksack, they'd both be home now. Vince would be getting the attention he needed – those wounds were starting to look nastier and nastier. Once again he cursed himself for his failure to keep Vince safe.

"Howard…" Vince said slowly, still curled up in the shirt, resting against a mossy rock.

"Yeah?" responded Howard, trying to keep his anger and panic at bay.

"What… _happened_ to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you _do _all of this?"

"Do all of what? Leave you there to get tortured? Get captured by the Darxeetans? Leave behind all our supplies, including the stone Naboo gave me to get you back home? Have to watch, powerless, useless, while they…" Howard's voice trailed off.

"No, Howard, I…" Vince's voice trailed off too, but was replaced by a grimace twisting his face. He clutched at his stomach. "Urrghh…"

Howard shuffled closer to Vince, worried, opening the shirt to take a closer look at his injuries. Howard was no medical expert, but by the looks of things, Vince's knife wounds were displaying the first signs of infection. Vince's wave of pain seemed to pass, and he smiled weakly at Howard.

"I guess they cut me up pretty bad, huh."

"You're going to need something. Food, at the very least."

"Howard? How are we going to get home then?"

"…I don't know. We'll work something out. Now look, I'm going to leave you here for a bit…"

Vince's face automatically dropped, but Howard continued to speak calmly to his friend.

"I'm going to find some food and water, and anything else that might be of use. You're injured; you need strength."

"But…"

"Vince, you'll be safe here, I promise. This is a peaceful area – you can tell just by sensing the atmosphere."

"How do you _know _that?"

"I guess I've just been getting a feel for the outdoors recently. Now, try to sleep a little if you can. I promise, I'll be back before sundown. An hour at most."

Vince nodded timidly, his blue eyes looking even bigger against Howard's white shirt and his own tiny curled up frame. Howard felt his heart wrench as he walked away from his friend, already counting the minutes before he would be back to watch over him.

xxxx

Just under an hour later, as promised, Howard emerged from the scrub, two dead rabbits slung over his back, carrying a bunch of fruit and berries under one arm, and brandishing a clumsily fashioned spear, just a sharpened lance of wood, in the other. Vince, looking paler still, heard his footsteps approaching and opened his tired eyes, looking at him with astonishment.

"Wow, Howard… where'd you get all that stuff?"

Howard wiped the sweat from his brow and took a seat against the tree. "Oh, you know. I managed to bag a couple of rabbits with this baby" – he held up the spear.

"But – that's amazing!"

"It's not, actually. I've come back with two, but I must have lost thirty of the little buggers. Still, this should be enough for a while."

"And all those berries and stuff?"

"Just picked them."

"How do you know they're not poison or anything?"

"I just waited around in the bushes for a while to see which fruit the rabbits were eating, and went for those. Stayed away from the ones they stayed away from. I tested little bits of these ones too; they don't taste great but they're safe. There's also a little stream maybe five minutes north of here – we can go there to drink."

"Howard…you're…"

"Come on now, eat some of the fruit; I'll start a fire for the rabbits. You look awful."

Vince raised his eyebrows in shock, and Howard quickly re-phrased himself. "I didn't mean that, I just meant, you know, you look injured. You _are _injured. But you still look…" God, what was he saying? "…normal."

Vince eagerly munched into the fruit and berries, grimacing at some of the tastes but obviously still starving for food. Howard waited, allowing Vince his full before he had any for himself. Vince needed food more badly, after all. Watching his friend munching away, Howard smiled to himself. Vince was eating the fruit exactly the same way that he ate sweets at home on the couch.

xxxx

Some time later as darkness set in, Howard had, much to his own surprise, succeeded in starting up a small fire. All he had done was mimic the tips he had read in the Global Explorer a hundred times before, and it had worked. It wasn't a roaring fire, by any stretch of the imagination, and the whole 'rubbing flint together' thing had proved much more difficult than it seemed on paper. Howard cursed himself again for losing the rucksack – he had packed his survival patches in there, and that would have made the whole process a lot smoother. Then again, if he hadn't have lost the rucksack, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

He had skinned the rabbits and they were now, he hoped, cooking. That had been quite a challenge as well: for a start, Vince had protested at the idea of eating rabbits at all. Howard kept insisting that Vince didn't have a problem eating meat at home, but for some reason Vince thought it was different if he could actually see what the animal looked like, especially if it was "cute and fuzzy". Then when it came to skinning the rabbits, Vince refused to look, or to even be within earshot of the noises, so Howard had to walk away from their resting point and do it in the dark. In any other circumstance he would have told Vince not to be so ridiculous, but the skinning of the rabbits conjured up images in Howard's head of watching the knife cut into his friend's chest, and this aching memory meant that he allowed Vince all the ridiculousness he wanted.

Once they had eaten (Howard had to cut the rabbits up into tiny pieces so Vince wouldn't baulk at the sight of them), and drank from the stream, Vince was beginning to doze off. He curled up in a ball again, still shivering, leaning against the rock.

"Thanks…for the food…Howard…" he mumbled.

"No problem, little man. Get some rest."

"What're…what're we going…to do…tomorrow…?"

"Don't you worry about that, sir. Howard Moon has a plan." Howard lied, wanting to put Vince's mind at rest.

"…genius…"

Howard felt his eyelids drooping, too, and before he knew it, he was falling asleep against the old tree trunk.

xxxx

"Come back…come back…please…come back…"

Howard awoke with a start to the sound of Vince's garbled voice. He was writhing around, his face contorted in fear. Sleep-talking.

"Don't…please…"

Howard moved over so that he was next to Vince, putting his arms around him and rocking him gently. "Come on, Vince, wake up, it's just a dream."

Vince's eyes shot open, staring straight up at Howard, before closing again as he burst into tears. "God, fuck Howard, I thought…I thought…"

Howard held him tightly in the darkness, continuing to rock him, whispering into his ear. "Come on, now, it's okay, I've got you."

"I thought… god, you were… I can't… Howard…"

"Shhh, Vince, I'm right here. I'm right here, see? Everything's okay. We're safe. I've got you, and we're safe."

"Don't…don't ever go away…again…please don't…"

"I'm not going anywhere. It's just you and me, right? And I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'm staying right here, Vince."

Soon, Vince had calmed down from his nightmares, and started to drift back into sleep. Tears pricked Howard's eyes at the thought of his friend being in so much agony. As Vince's breath slowed into slumber, Howard felt as if he really ought to move back to his spot against the tree. But Vince was still cold, and he looked so small. So Howard stayed there, holding his friend, sharing his warmth, and waiting for dawn.

xxxx

Early next morning, Howard gently disentangled himself from Vince's embrace, and exited their resting spot to take a drink from the stream, on the look-out for something he could use to carry water back to Vince. Walking away, he immediately felt lonely, powerfully lonely, for Vince's warmth. Shaking the thought from his mind, he approached the stream. He could have only been gone for five minutes when he heard a scream echo out from the woodland.

"Howaaaaarrrrdddd! Help!"

* * *

**A/N Alright, there you go. No more Darxeetans. Now it's just the journey home. How will they get there? Who will they encounter on the way? Click the review button to find out! **


	9. Going Underground

**A/N This chapter's a lot calmer than the last lot have been - I think the boys deserved a breather from all that intense stuff. This one's kinda long too; my pen kinda got carried away. Hope it's okay after the action-packed last couple of chapters! Anyway, it's dedicated to stars of andromeda for buffing up my sorely lacking knowledge of britcoms, and to violence as well, in honour of our new band, "Julian's Tunic". (we so need a website. )**

* * *

Howard's hands tightened around the spear, which he'd been carrying in case of running into any easy prey, and he bolted back towards the sound of Vince's scream. Seconds later, he burst into the clearing, knowing with regret that his weapon would be useless against anything bigger than a rabbit. Vince was backed up against the rock, eyes widened with fear, an ominous cloaked figure looming over him…

"Hey! He's with me!"

The ominous cloaked figure turned to face Howard.

"Maverick Howard Moon!" The Phetargan leader boomed, bowing graciously. "It is good to see you. You have returned safely from your mission?"

"So far" replied Howard, his fear overcome with relief.

"And this," the Phetargan gestured towards Vince, who was still cowering against the rock. "This is your Vince?"

Howard blushed at the expression. "Well, he's not mine per se, but yeah, that's Vince."

"So your quest was a success, then."

"In a manner of speaking."

"You seem worried. What troubles you, maverick Howard Moon? Our charm did not give you any trouble, I hope?"

"No, no. Well yes, actually, but that's not the problem. I've lost the teleporting device that was meant to get us back home, and my friend, he's injured. But what brings you here?"

"It is my duty to scout out new terrain for future settlements. I traveled here underground - our newest tunnel emerges just east of here. I sensed your Vince's presence through the earth; I thought perhaps he was a wandering Darxeetan soldier, separated from his troop. An easy sacrifice, you see."

"Darxeetans don't usually wander off this far, do they?" Howard asked, worrying.

"No, no. This part of the woods is of little interest to them. But one must remain vigilant at all times, Howard Moon."

"Okay, hang on a bleedin minute." Vince piped up for the first time, the same confused expression on his face that he wore when spotting someone wearing last month's fashion. "Howard…you _know_ this thing?"

"He's not a thing, Vince." Howard frowned apologetically at his alien companion. "He's a Phetargan warrior. They're enemies of the Darxeetans too."

"Call me Thraxos" added the Phetargan, bowing to Vince and causing him to inch further backwards. "I am glad to hear of your survival. Your retrieval was of the utmost importance to our Earth ally, Howard Moon, spanner of genres."

"_Spanner _of _genres_?" snorted Vince incredulously.

"Shut up" murmured Howard, blushing again.

Thraxos moved forward. "Allow me to examine your wounds, friend of maverick."

Vince shrunk backwards, hesitating, looking over Thraxos' shoulder at Howard. Howard caught his friend's eye. "It's okay, Vince, he won't hurt you. They're on our side."

"_They?_ There's _more_ of 'em?"

"Vince. Let him take a look at you."

The weakened electro boy complied, remaining still as Thraxos knelt down and peered at his chest wounds.

"Hmm…this does not look good."

Vince widened his eyes. "What? What doesn't look good? Howard?"

"Thraxos, can I have a word with you for a minute?" Howard interjected, concern bubbling up inside him again. Thraxos nodded, and the two of them stepped out of the thicket, leaving Vince who was looking too weak to move very far.

Once they were out of earshot, Howard spoke quietly. "Thraxos, what is it? What do you see?"

"Your Vince has been pierced by Darxeetan steel. Their technology is like nowhere else in the universe; their knives are crafted with dark sorcery. Cutting into flesh with a Darxeetan blade, especially human flesh, for your kind are weaker than most, does not bode well at all."

"What are you saying? He'll get sick? _What?"_

"By the looks of it, your Vince will become weaker and weaker. Then the infection will spread to his mind, and he will be plagued with evil thoughts. Finally, it will spread to his lungs, and he will breathe no longer."

"He'll…he'll die?"

"That is the truth of it, Howard Moon."

"But isn't there…isn't there something you can do? Surely there's a cure."

"Cures do indeed exist – I believe the Darxeetans themselves possess such white magics, but sadly our tribe is does not. We have been stripped of much of our powers over time; we are weak and possess nothing but our land. And we are very proud of our land…"

"…yes, I remember" said Howard, a little coldly. "So, what do we do? There has to be something."

"Your Vince will live if you can get him back to Earth. As much as it pains me to admit it, for he is an enemy of our tribe, Naboo of Xooberon is a capable shaman, and will have access to such cures."

"How long until…until it spreads to his lungs?"

Thraxos bowed his cloaked head. "Perhaps only a few days. Darxeetans pride themselves on efficiency."

Howard began to pace back and forth, wringing his hands together. "Okay, right, so we have to get him back home. Right. Yes. But… god, how are we going to do that? We lost the teleporting stone, I told you! So unless your tribe has some spares lying around, I don't see how we can make this work!"

"…there is a way."

Howard's eyes brightened. "How? Tell me!"

"There is an ancient magic that our tribe practices, calling upon the powers of temporality, which serves as a form of time reversal, of sorts."

"Go on."

"Essentially, it is possible for us to transport you and your Vince back to Earth, if you are transported from the point in which you first arrived on Darxeeta. In essence, we would be reversing your arrival."

"That's brilliant! Perfect! Let's go, let's do it!"

"These rituals take time to prepare, Howard Moon. Participating in such ceremonies is a deeply spiritual experience for our tribe. But I do believe we can have everything ready in time to save the life of your Vince."

"You have to!"

"I _have_ to do nothing, Howard Moon. I am not obliged to assist you. I spared your life – that is more than is expected of me by the fates."

"I'm sorry, I just…"

"I understand. You are coloured by love. It possesses you. We shall return to our tribal camp and do what we can for your Vince, and then prepare to travel to your departure point. Where did you first appear on our planet?"

"In a cave…a big cave… across from the plains that led me to you. God, if I still had the map…"

"Was there anything distinctive about these particular caves, maverick Howard Moon?"

"No…they were just caves!" Howard panicked. "Unless you count the big bastard of a monster in there with me."

"Monster? Surely you do not speak of the Beast of Beyond?"

"I don't know what it was called. It was a huge scaly thing, and it told me it would either burn me to death or eat me. I ran away from it."

"That indeed is the Beast of Beyond. It is a legendary monster, said to have once guarded the gates of Hell. You are very lucky to have escaped its jaws."

"Well, I've always said that these babies were a gift from the gods" said Howard, slapping his thigh proudly.

"The gods gave you your legs? Which gods?" responded Thraxos, curiously.

"No, I…forget it. Look, this plan sounds great. We should get back to Vince, get him moving."

"But what will you do when you have to face the Beast of Beyond once again?"

"…I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it" muttered Howard, inwardly reeling at the idea of having to step into those awful caves once again.

They both headed back into the clearing, where Vince was peering around curiously, still looking confused.

"Howard? Tell me, what is it? Oh my god, am I going to die? My hair's not going to fall out or anything, is it?"

Howard exchanged a brief look with Thraxos, and then knelt down next to Vince. "No. You're lucky, these Darxeetan weapons are kind of poisonous, but it turns out that humans are pretty much immune to the really fatal magic. You're going to get sick, and feel pretty weak and all that, but give it a couple of days and it'll wear off entirely."

A look of relief flooded Vince's features. "Thank god for that, eh? I thought I was a goner for a minute there."

"That's the Vince I remember – melodramatic as always" Howard smiled at him, clapping him on the shoulder and trying very hard not to cry. "Now, we've got more good news, too. Thraxos and his tribe have a way of getting us back home. We're going to go to their camp for a bit and fix up your wounds, let them get a few things, and then tomorrow we'll head off to this cave place, they'll do a spell, and boom! Simple as that!"

Vince grinned weakly. "Aw, that's genius."

Howard helped Vince to his feet. The younger man's lethargy and muscle weakness was getting worse but he could still walk around alright, as long as he had a shoulder to lean on every now and again. A shoulder which Howard was all too happy to provide. Thraxos led them away from the clearing and down a hidden trapdoor into the Phetargan tunnel network – one of the traps that Howard had originally fallen into. Once their feet hit the floor, Thraxos led the way through the curved and twisted pathways, lit by tiny light charms dotted on the walls.

Howard and Vince followed in silence. The only sounds were those of their feet on the soft earth below, and the echoing of their footsteps behind and ahead of them. Walking next to his friend, Howard darted a look at Vince every once in a while, just to make sure he was looking alright. And also, he admitted to himself, because he was so glad to have his friend back again that he couldn't help but keep looking at him, just at the sight of him being alive and right here, real, breathing, not a figment. Walking through these tunnels in silence, he felt like he could look at Vince forever.

Just as that thought entered his mind, Vince happened to glance up at Howard and hold his gaze. Howard immediately looked away, embarrassed, but Vince just grinned back weakly. Howard returned the smile, a little bashfully.

"You doing okay, little man?" the sound of Howard's voice echoed surprisingly loudly, and he immediately regretting ruining the peace.

"Yeah, m'fine. These tunnels are genius. It's like a giant worm dug 'em out or something."

Thraxos responded from the front, not turning his head. "Our tribe worked for centuries digging out these tunnel systems. It involved intensely difficult and dangerous manual labor. Many tribesmen perished. You should not accredit such a fine achievement to the handiwork of a mere worm."

Vince looked at Howard in surprise. "Jesus, I was just _sayin'…_"

Thraxos returned to his silence, still leading the way. Vince leaned in to Howard and whispered "Oi, I know this guy…thing…whatever, is a mate of yours an' that, but don't you think he's a bit of a ball-"

Howard clamped his hand over Vince's mouth before Vince had the change to utter the accursed insult. Vince flashed an angry look at Howard, but seeing the desperation in his friend's eyes, somehow got the message and remained quiet, continuing the journey.

xxxx

Before much longer, they turned a corner and entered the Phetargan camp where Howard had been held before. Cloaked figures wandered in and out, some conversing, some polishing weapons, some running after small children (who, amusingly enough, were also cloaked). Vince was looking around in awe at the surroundings, and then at Howard, and then at the surroundings again. A smaller Phetargan approached them, bowing graciously.

"Howard Moon, spanner of genres. You have returned with your Vince. We shall attend to him immediately."

"How did you know we were coming?" asked Howard.

"Thraxos sent word. We possess a shared telepathy between tribesmen."

"That must come in handy" Howard responded, feeling a pang of regret over losing Naboo's ring.

Howard and Vince spent the rest of the day wandering around the Phetargan camp. Vince's wounds were treated as best they could be, so at least the physical pain was dulled, and he was bandaged up and given new clothes and food. Howard spent time talking to various warriors around the camp, learning about Phetargan culture and the warrior tradition, which he thought would make a great article if he ever got home to write it… forget the Global Explorer, how about Howard Moon's Interplanetary Explorer? Meanwhile, Thraxos and his chosen few retreated from sight, preparing the ritual which would transport the boys back to Earth.

xxxx

The day flew by, what with the excitement of the camp, and the joy that came from being in a friendly civilisation. Evening soon began to set in, and Howard decided that an early night was needed for both him and Vince. Big day tomorrow and all. Howard was settled into a tent-bed similar to the one he had last been in, with Vince in the same set-up in a tent next to Howard, so that the maverick could be within earshot if anything went wrong with his friend.

The sounds of the camp dulled down as the night deepened, and Howard gladly took in the stillness of the air and the safety of the bed. He hadn't had time to think calmly to himself since… well, a long time ago. And now that he had slowed down, he found himself dwelling on thoughts that he hadn't given himself the time to dwell on before. Thoughts like, what kind of a person did it make him, if he had felt a jolt of excitement run through him when Vince had taken his hand in front of the Darxeetan firing squad? What kind of person did it make him, if part of him had felt happy and proud when calming Vince from his nightmare? It was wrong, surely, to have these kind of feelings. But he couldn't help it, he couldn't! These little bursts of happiness or excitement just hit him – a bodily impulse. What was he meant to do about it?

He turned over for the zillionth time in bed. He couldn't rid himself of the look Vince had given him when he'd returned the previous day with his meager offering of food. He had done so badly; a couple of mangy rabbits and some berries; but Vince had looked up at him for a moment like he was a vision or something. Something special. Howard knew that he hadn't done well on this mission, and that Bollo would probably mock him when he got back home, but when Vince looked at him like that… he _felt _special. Special to Vince, anyway. And that was the only thing that really mattered to him, when he thought about it properly. Wasn't that a bit weird, too? What was it that Thraxos had said to him… _you are coloured by love. It possesses you. _Sure, he and Vince loved each other, of course they did. Best friends. Ten years. But maybe it wasn't as simple as that anymore…

"…Howard?" called Vince softly through the wall.

"Yeah?"

"Can I come into your room for a sec, d'ya reckon?"

"Of course."

Vince appeared in a minute, rubbing his eyes tiredly, his hair messed up and still looking a bit peculiar with the missing chunk at the front. Sort of... breathtaking, was the word that came to mind, actually. _That _was a bit weird, too.

"Can't sleep, little man?"

"Not really. There's been too much stuff going on in my head. It's all…" Vince finished his sentence by waving his arms around and making a funny face. "You know?"

"Yeah, I think I do. You wanna jump in here for a bit?" asked Howard, patting his bed and moving aside to make room.

"Cheers, Howard." Vince hopped into the bed next to Howard, pulling the blankets up around him. Howard felt one of those insistent bolts of happiness rush through him again, and tried to dismiss it.

"So, Howard. Tell me. What the hell _happened_ to you? All these Phetargan people, they treat you like you're a proper warrior guy or something."

"Long story short, I met them when I was traveling to the fortress. See, I started off in these caves, but then there was a monster, so I had to run, and I ended up in this area that was owned by Thraxos and his tribe, and I fell down one of their holes, and there they were. Actually, at first they tried to burn me and cook me in a big pot as a sacrifice."

"They _what?_" exclaimed Vince.

"Well, that was before they knew I was friends with Naboo."

"Ah, good old Naboo. He's a diamond."

"Well, actually, when they found out I was mates with Naboo, they tried to whip me and then burn me and cook me."

_"What?"_

"Turns out he slagged off one of their elders a bazillion years ago. But anyway, they found out we had an enemy in common, and they changed their mind."

"Are you being serious, Howard?"

"Yeah, I know. It's all a bit ridiculous, isn't it. I mean, how many times can I get chased or captured in the space of an afternoon?"

"No, I mean… you're amazing! You did all that? Just to come and get me?"

Howard turned to face Vince properly. "There's no 'just' about it, little man."

Vince returned his stare, his big blue eyes glinting in the darkness, a strange kind of electricity hanging in the air. Howard felt the room temperature rising, and his palms becoming damp. Still, Vince held his stare. Had his friend inched closer, or was he imagining it? If he could just…

Vince suddenly swooned a little, closing his eyes into a frown, the tension broken.

"You alright, Vince?"

"Yeah, m'just feeling a bit… you know. You said this Darxeetan stuff would make me a bit sick, yeah?"

"Mm."

"That's all it is. Nothing to worry about."

"Well, you better get some rest. Early start tomorrow."

"Yeah. Mind if I sleep here tonight? It feels comfier than my bed."

"Sure thing."

Howard watched as the heave of Vince's chest gradually slowed into sleep. He had a flashback to the vision-maker. …_Howard. God. I'm…I'm so sorry…_The thought of Vince's breathing becoming slower, and slower, and slower, coming to a final stop, and the light in those sparkling eyes going out for good, sent a shudder down Howard's spine. He couldn't fail Vince, not again.

Seizing a moment of rare daring, Howard placed his hand in Vince's, curling his fingers around his friend's. He could stay this way, he supposed, and in the morning Vince would just assume he reached for him in a dream.

* * *

**Getting closer to home, now. But they're running against the clock for Vince's life! Tick, tock, tick, tock. Stay tuned. And while you're here... why not review? hehe.**


	10. Against the Clock

**A/N Not the most eventful chapter, but one which will hopefully lead the story in the right direction. Hope you enjoy. Thanks again to everyone who's been reading so far.**

* * *

Slowly waking up, Howard felt warm breath tickling his neck, and realized with a smile that Vince was curled into him, arm stretching across his stomach, sleeping soundly. A rush of affection came over him, and he reached tenderly for Vince's arm, keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to lose the moment to the harsh light of day. If only he could hold onto this moment, he thought, to take it out on a rainy day. It'd be enough.

Vince stirred slightly at Howard's touch, and made a soft murmuring noise. Unable to stop himself from looking at his friend sleeping so peacefully, he opened his eyes, and then jolted back a little. Vince looked… he looked grey. Ashen. Howard immediately felt Vince's forehead, and drew back sharply at the heat – Vince was burning up. The younger man blearily opened his eyes and peered up at Howard, bloodshot veins pervading the sparkly blue that Howard was used to.

"Howard…morning. Urgh, I feel awful." Vince's voice was quieter than usual.

"Just a fever, little man, nothing to write home about."

"I hate fevers."

"I know. But you'll be fine. Tell you what, you have a bit of a lie-in, and I'll go and see if I can find something to speed up your recovery. How's that sound?"

"Yeah, genius. Thanks, Howard."

Howard threw on one of the cloaks he had been given and exited the tent, soon finding Thraxos surrounded by other warriors. He approached him, the look of concern obviously etched across his features. He related Vince's state to his Phetargan companion, who merely sighed in response.

"What?" asked Howard.

"It should not be moving through his system this quickly. He is too weak from his time in the fortress. We must move with haste; we have less time than I anticipated."

Howard felt his stomach clench up into a painful knot. "Have you finished getting the ritual ready?"

"Indeed, we have just completed the preparations."

"So do we…can we leave now? What do we do?"

"We should set off immediately. You should prepare your Vince for departure; I shall gather my tribesmen. We shall travel with several warriors; as many as our tribe can do without."

Feeling a claustrophobic heat gathering around him, Howard half-walked, half-ran back to his tent, finding Vince once again asleep. He seemed greyer and paler than a few minutes ago, if that was possible. Perhaps, in his state of panic, he was imagining things. He hoped so badly that he was.

"Vince, c'mon, wake-up time." Howard nudged Vince gently.

"Urgh…I thought… I thought you said… could have a bit more… of a sleepie…"

"C'mon, get up" Howard pushed, fighting very hard to keep the panic out of his voice. "Turns out we have to get going."

"What…right now?" Vince was opening his eyes.

"Yeah, right now. C'mon, c'mon. Get dressed, get the stuff from your tent."

"What's the rush? I thought these Phetargan guys had the whole going home thing sorted out."

"Well…they do…it's just that… that we have to get there really quickly, or else the ritual won't work." Howard lied.

"So if we don't rush, I might _never_ get back home?" Vince asked, shocked.

Howard felt a lump in his throat. "Yeah. We can make it though; don't worry, just have to get going now."

xxxx

Before long, Thraxos and his tribesmen joined Howard and Vince, greeting each other briefly before heading through a south-bound tunnel after Thraxos' lead. Vince was weaker than yesterday, and was leaning on Howard's shoulder more often than not for support, smiling at him gratefully. Howard had Vince believing that his intense physical weakness was just a combination of sleep deprivation and exhaustion from his time in the fortress, plus the supposedly mild sickness from the Darxeetan torture. During the walk, Thraxos explained the details of the plan to the boys.

"Once we reach the caves, we shall have to enter into them and create a moment of peace to perform the sacred ritual. This will mean that we can undergo no negative interruptions of energy, or else the magics will not bind. Thus, the Beast of Beyond will have to be dealt with. Howard Moon, your Vince is too weak to be of use," (Vince bowed his head shamefully at these words, and Howard's heart broke a little more) "but you, Howard Moon, spanner of genres, will face the beast in battle, with our tribe accompanying you. We have brought many weapons and skilled warriors with us – it should not prove an impossible task."

"Not impossible, huh" said Howard. "Well, that's a start." Thraxos remained silent, and Howard immediately regretted his sarcasm. Despite their not-so-amiable introduction, the Phetargans had assisted him immensely, and were now going out of their way to help send him and Vince home. He wished that he could do something for them in return, but with no time on his hands, he had no idea what he could…

"Hey, Thraxos" Howard asked, whilst they walked through another endless tunnel, Vince still leaning into his side. "Did I ever tell you how we actually got out of the fortress?"

"You did not. I assume it was not due to our charm, which you say did not do our tribe justice, maverick Howard Moon."

"No, the charm was perfect – it was my fault it didn't work; I broke the magic. I couldn't…couldn't help it." Howard's mind flashed back to that horrendous torture scene, and he shook it off with effort. "What ended up happening though, was…well, you know how they call me the maverick?"

"Yes, of course. Though as I said when we first met, we know nothing of mavericks."

"Well you see, I'm actually a jazz maverick." Howard felt Vince snigger into his shoulder, and he let it pass. "Part of that is being able to scat. The history of scat began…" he noticed that Thraxos had paused in his walking. Translating this as aggravation and boredom (that was how Vince usually reacted anyway), and as much as it pained him, he decided to skip the history of scat and jump straight to business. "When the guards rushed in, I…"

"Wait!" Thraxos cut in. His voice was more emotive than usual, and Howard realized that maybe he hadn't stopped in his tracks due to impatience with jazz. "You know the ancient art of scat?"

Howard frowned, confused. "Er… maybe you're thinking of something else. Scat _is_ old, and it _is_ an art, but calling it ancient is kind of pushing it…"

Thraxos calmed himself and kept up the walking pace, still looking intensely at Howard. "Let me guess, you scatted and the Darxeetans fell down, powerless and at your mercy."

"Yeah, that's right! But how did you…"

"Scat is a deep magic for our people. Hundreds of years ago, it was the only thing our tribe possessed that could overcome the Darxeetans. Phetargans practiced the art of scat intensely, passing it on from generation to generation. But the art died out with many of our elders, and we no longer have the ability. But you… you say that you do have it?"

"Er, yes actually. I pride myself on my scatting. I'm good with a few different periods actually, bebop, acid jazz, blues fusion…" he thought he felt Vince snigger again. Thraxos, however, seemed moved almost beyond words.

"This is…this is why you are called maverick?"

"That's right, yes sir."

"Maverick Howard Moon… I understand that the art of scat is a sacred treasure, not to be taken lightly. But if it would… if it would please you, would you consider perhaps sharing some of your secrets with our tribe? For many a year we have suffered under the torment of the Darxeetans, and with the art of scat, we could overthrow their dictatorship and live in harmony once again!"

"Oh, yeah, of course. I've been waiting for years to teach someone scat – Vince here doesn't seem to give a shit about it to be honest."

xxxx

So for the next few hours, wandering through the tunnel system, Howard patiently took Thraxos through the basics of scat singing. He began with jazz scales and arpeggio fragments, working his way through syllable choice, fricatives and stop consonants and onto improvisational open vowels. Thraxos was a fast learner, and soon began mimicking Howard with surprising proficiency. Howard enjoyed every minute of it – a little because of the thrill of finding someone as interested in scat as he was who didn't want to throw things at his head, but mostly because it made the journey pass more quickly, and kept his mind from panicking again.

"See, Louis Armstrong is often credited as the first scat singer, starting off from about, ooh, 1926, but that's a common misunderstanding, yes sir…" Howard felt Vince snigger again into his shoulder. He ignored him and continued. "You'll be surprised at how far back the roots of scat…" Vince sniggered again. And again. Only, he wasn't sniggering – he was coughing.

Howard tapped Thraxos on the back and halted the journey, grabbing Vince by the shoulders and turning to face him. "Vince, you alright?"

Vince continued coughing in small, tight gasps. "Water!" Howard yelled, a Phetargan offering him a flask immediately. He handed it to Vince, who lifted it shakily to his mouth, clearing his throat.

"Thanks, Howard, I…" Vince took a step backwards and swooned dangerously to the side. Howard caught him around the waist hastily.

"Vince?"

"Urgh…I feel…m'just tired Howard." Vince's face screwed up as another coughing fit hit him. Howard looked despairingly at Thraxos, who took a step forward to examine Vince's face.

"We must keep haste. You and you, carry him. He is too weak." Two large Phetargans lifted Vince up, one arm each, and proceeded to march forward. Howard walked closely next to Thraxos.

"Will he…"

"Do not waste your energy on worrying, Howard Moon. In a few hours we shall be at our place of rest, and your Vince will have a night's sleep to sooth him. We will then depart again at dawn – the caves are a mere morning's journey from there."

"Is it enough time?"

"According to my calculations, it shall be."

Howard felt his heart beating in his throat again, and he held back to walk alongside Vince.

"Hey, free ride, eh? Not bad."

"M…m'sorry Howard."

"What's this? Sorry for what, little man?"

"M'slowing everyone down…"

"Nonsense. You just concentrate on getting better, yeah? You'll want to have your strength back for the trip home – I'm sure you'll have a line of people waiting to go partying with you the minute we set foot in Dalston."

"Don't wanna party… too tired…"

"Come on now, you'll be feeling top of the morning soon."

"Yeah. Cheers Howard…"

xxxx

The rest of the journeying went by in a bit of a blur for Howard. He continued his giving his scat lessons to Thraxos, and talking to Vince every now and again, though the younger man was looking so ill that Howard almost felt cruel forcing him through the motions of conversation.

In what seemed like both an instant and a lifetime, they reached Thraxos' designated resting place, and settled in for a sleep before the dawn. The Phetargans, obviously accustomed to camping out, merely lay down on the solid earth and went to straight to sleep. Vince, almost totally drained of energy, did the same, flopping down onto the ground like a ragdoll and weakly rubbing his arms to fend of the cold. Howard would have none of it, obviously. He sat himself down against the cave wall.

"Oi, Vince, c'mere."

Vince looked at him for a second, confused, before edging closer to Howard, who wrapped his arms around his friend and cushioned him against his own body, creating the effect of a bunch of pillows and a blanket.

"That's better, yeah?"

"Yeah… thanks… thas' much… better."

Howard closed his eyes, resting his head against the tunnel wall, a lump in his throat. He stroked his fingers gently over Vince's arms, and soon Vince softly imitating his movement. Just as Howard felt the peaceful beckoning of sleep, he heard Vince speak his name.

"Yeah, little man? You comfy?"

"Yeah… you're really comfy… jus' like home…"

"What is it then?"

"Howard…"

"…yeah?" Howard kept stroking Vince's arm.

"I…"

"C'mon Vince, you can tell me."

"…I know…I know I'm dying."

Howard felt his stomach churn, the darkness of the tunnel enveloping him. He paused for a few sickening seconds, forcing himself not to react physically, before responding in the calmest voice he could muster.

"Don't be silly, Vince. You'll just ill, that's all. You said the same thing that time you had the flu, remember? And all you needed was some antibiotics, and then, what do you know, you're as right as…"

"Howard…I know m'dying. I…heard you…you n'Thraxos talking…. In the clearing… I heard what he said. Didn't wanna...say anything... was tryin to pretend that... that I made it up or something..."

Howard froze up, unable to think of anything to say. He couldn't even move – everything seemed to have clammed up around him. And everything ached, _everything._ He clenched his teeth together. It was Vince who broke the silence.

"The weakness…s'alright… jus' like flu… like you said. But Thraxos said it'd…said it'd spread to my mind… and… m'scared Howard."

Vince's voice melted through the ice that was numbing Howard, and he shifted positions so that he was facing Vince, and they were kind of sitting or lying on each other. Trembling, he grabbed both Vince's hands, and stared at him intensely.

"You listen to me. _Listen._ You're not going to die. You heard Thraxos speak? Well, good. You also heard there's a chance we can get you back home. And that's what we're going to do, okay? That's what we're doing now. Tomorrow morning, we're taking out that cave beast, and we'll be back home, and Naboo will fix you up. This time tomorrow, we'll be watching Colobus the Crab and experimenting with pancake recipes while you tease me about jazz. I'll buy you strawberry bootlaces and everything. There is no other option – there's no other way. That is what's going to happen. I didn't come this far to lose you now. You're not going anywhere except home with me. You are not going to die. You have nothing – _nothing_ – to be afraid of. Do y'hear me?"

Vince gripped Howard's hands tightly, a few tears squeezing out the corners of his eyes as he nodded back at his friend. Howard's eyes too were threatening to spill over, but just as he was going to break Vince's grip to wipe the tears, Vince broke his grip first, cupping Howard's cheek and leaning into him, pressing his lips to Howard's for just a second or two. It was the softest sensation Howard could have ever imagined. Vince then turned on his side, nestling into Howard's lap, preparing for sleep. Unable to find the right words, and then feeling as if maybe it was better without them, Howard closed his eyes too, stroking Vince's head as the younger man eventually drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**More action next chapter, I promise. Until then, reviews are always welcome! xoxo**


	11. Into Battle

**A/N This chapter really took it out of me, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, sidenote: this site has been stuffing me around again, and for some reason the previous chapter "Against the Clock" keeps disappearing. It might just be my computer, but in case it isn't, and you haven't read it, you might want to check that it's there before reading this one! (a lot won't make sense otherwise.)**

* * *

Howard opened his eyes. Waking up wasn't really the word, as he hadn't really ever fallen asleep; just laid there all night, dozing off for short periods of time, making sure that Vince was warm and comfortable, pressing his ears against Vince's friend's chest now and again to reassure him that his friend was breathing alright. The kiss… the kiss, the kiss. Howard didn't know what to make of it. Did Vince… more importantly, did _he…_ god, it was useless. Vince was getting worse and worse, they were both half-paralyzed with fear and stuck underground in an alien tunnel. He wasn't allowed to think about kisses now, not when Vince was… not when they were so far from home, and when night seemed to stretch out forever, his thoughts haunting him, his only anchor to the outside world being the small tired electro boy curled up in his lap. Howard realized then that he and Vince had slept like this, curled together, for the last three nights.

He nudged Vince gently, rousing him from what looked like a very deep slumber. Vince shifted slowly, turning his eyes towards Howard.

"You're disgusting."

Howard blinked, at a loss for words. Vince, however, wasn't.

"You…make me…sick. Sick as...a dog. Full moon…y'know." His mouth was twisted into a strange and venomous way. His breathing, Howard noticed, was shallower than yesterday.

"Vince, I…"

"Vince…no Vince…no…Vince." The younger man was giggling now, giggling and coughing, looking around the tunnel with darting eyes.

Howard inched backwards. He had known that this was coming, but he still couldn't quite believe it. It seemed as if overnight Vince had retreated inside of his own head and something else was operating him now, something Howard was afraid to touch. Thraxos approached Howard, the other Phetargans assembling in the background, almost ready to depart.

"His mind is leaving him. Do not fear, Howard Moon. Your Vince will be restored to his former self once he receives treatment."

"He's not…possessed …is he?"

"No, thankfully. Possession is much more difficult to deal with. This is a sickness of the mind, and like a sickness of the body, it shall be tempered and cured. Until then, I suggest you leave him be. You and you – carry him again. We have little time. Depart!"

xxxx

Howard knew that they were relatively close to the cave, but that didn't stop him from feeling as if years were thudding by as they traveled through the tunnels. He tried to scat with Thraxos (who was getting pretty good at it by now), but his mind was tied solely to Vince.

About two hours down the track, and nearing the beast's cave, the Phetargans stopped for a few minutes to drink from an underground spring that was traveling though the tunnel. Howard took the opportunity to attempt conversation with Vince, who had been placed down on the tunnel floor, almost incapable of moving on his own now. He crouched down next to his friend, running his hand through Vince's hair.

"How you doing, little man?"

"It's not…easy. Filthy…filthy! The moon falls…down."

Howard looked deep into Vince's eyes, searching for a sign that his friend was still in there somewhere.

Vince snarled, and ran his own hands down his face roughly. "Ugly boy…ugly… makes you wanna…" he trailed off, his eyes glazed over.

Howard cupped Vince's face with both hands. "Vince."

Vince spat in his face.

Howard pulled back, wiping his face as Vince sort of growled at him. For a minute Howard was reminded of Vince spitting in the face of the Darxeetan guard torturing him, and the comparison made him feel ill. He moved close to Vince again, refusing to give up.

"Vince. Vince. You in there?"

Vince looked straight through him. Howard took his hand, and Vince slapped him across the face, hard. Howard froze, his cheek stinging, and he choked back a sob. As he did, something flashed across Vince's eyes. He cocked his head towards Howard, and his harsh expression morphed into something softer.

"Howard'll come" he muttered, talking to Howard in a child-like voice. "Howard'll come. It's alright, little man." He patted Howard reassuringly on the head. Howard, instantly recognizing Vince's mimicry, felt his eyes film over with tears. Vince moved his hand to Howard's cheek, wiping away the dampness that was trickling silently downward. He smiled, still seeming child-like, and cooed at Howard. "You have nothing… _nothing_…to be…afraid of. The moon… doesn't… it comes back. Glowing. Clap your hands."

Howard smiled weakly at his friend, but Vince's expression changed again in an instant, a cold glare coming over his features. "Wrong answer… I can see you…bastard..." He shifted away from Howard aggressively.

Ahead of them, the Phetargans were ready to move on. The two big tribesmen hoisted Vince up again, and they continued on their journey. Thraxos seemed to sense Howard's pain, and left him to his silence.

xxxx

As Thraxos navigated the group nearer to the cave, he began running down his plan with Howard.

"So, basically, a few of your tribesmen start preparing the ritual, and while you're doing that, I go in with the rest of the tribe and kill the beast, and then once it's dead you do the spell and, bingo?"

"Bingo?" asked Thraxos.

"No, I mean, you do the spell and we'll be sent home?"

"It is as simple as that."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Vince coughing loudly. He had been doing that for the past while now, with increasing intensity. He kept uttering nonsense, but the coughing fits and shallow breathing were slowly taking over. The last stage of the illness. The Phetargans carrying him gave him a bit of water, continuing their march. Howard felt his stomach sink even lower.

"So" he continued to Thraxos, "How do we kill this thing?"

"There is no trick, Howard Moon, it is just a matter of slaying the beast. Our tribesmen are all heavily armed, and we shall use the element of surprise to our advantage. You shall use this." Thraxos reached into his heavy robes to retrieve a long sharp sword.

Howard took it hesitantly. "Me… use this?"

"It will serve you well. Trust your instinct in battle; trust your sword, and it will trust you" Thraxos replied. "We are here."

The group stopped in their tracks. Thraxos opened up a trapdoor above them, and one by one they climbed up towards the sunshine. Above ground, Howard immediately recognized their location as the place he had emerged to, after escaping the beast's jaws. It felt like a million years ago.

No time for reflections though, he thought, catching a glance of Vince, who had been propped down on the soft ground. He was paler than Howard thought could be possible, his eyes half closed so that he looked drunk, his chest heaving, his breathing laboured. Howard thought that he could see a blue tinge starting to form around Vince's mouth.

Thraxos led the group into action. "You, you and you, prepare the ritual. You, look after Howard's Vince. The rest of you, take up your weapons and follow me; now we fight!"

Howard approached the cave, whispering into Thraxos' ear. "If I … if I die in battle, but we still succeed… will you still send him home?"

"If that is your wish, maverick Howard Moon, then it shall be so."

"Thanks." Howard longed to run to Vince, to try to reach him one more time, but he knew that time was running out, and so he followed the Phetargans into the darkness of the cave.

xxxx

Inside, it wasn't long before they heard the sound of heavy movement in the distance. The Phetargans, long accustomed to darkness, moved ahead in silence and with confidence. Howard, his pulse racing, followed. They had only taken a few steps before an enormous roar echoed from the left side of the cave.

"You have trespassed in my cave" came the familiar voice. "You have two choices…"

Thraxos boomed "CHARGE!"

In a blur of motion, Howard moved towards the sound, following the others, holding the sword up high, trying very hard to trust his instincts. He had to find them in the first place – that was kind of the problem. A minute later – a second – he didn't know, he felt the ground rumble beneath him, and he was struck hard in the chest by an enormous scaly limb. He was thrown backwards against a wall, while several Phetargans seemed to have struck the creature with their bows and swords. Howard got to his feet and ran back towards the deafening sounds of yelling and thumping. His eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, he saw what looked like a tail whiz past his eyes, and he plunged his sword into it, hearing a booming cry from the beast.

Phetargan tribesmen seemed to be everywhere, pushing past each other, being thrown aside, climbing up the beast's back. They knew no fear, it seemed. Howard withdrew his sword, spinning around, jumping this way and that to avoid being thrown aside. He heard the stomp of an enormous foot, and plunged his sword into that, and then into what he thought was the beast's belly, but instead he struck the wall of the cave. Suddenly he was hit again, he didn't even know by what, and his head struck the wall with a crunching force. He slid to the floor, a dizziness overtaking him. The darkness of the cave began to blend into the darkness behind closed eyes, the sounds of battle merging into a vague hum. The urge to lie back here, to fall asleep, to rest for a second, just a second…

"_Hey Howard, will you take me on the London Eye sometime? It's the biggest in the world. They reckon you can see __everything__ from up there."_

"_You've been on the carpet with Naboo before."_

"_But this is better! It's all colourful and it goes round an' round, and we could take sweets an' everything! It'd be genius!"_

"_Alright, little man. Next day off, we'll go. How's that sound?"_

"_Aw, thanks Howard. Besides, whenever we go on the carpet, Naboo always has to be there to drive it."_

"_So? He likes you. I'm the one him and Bollo have a problem with."_

"_Nah, I mean, I love Naboo. He's a diamond. But you know. It's more fun when it's the just the two of us, innit?"_

**Vince.**

Howard stirred himself, jumping to his feet, his hand gripping the sword. He had had enough. Enough beasts, enough alien planets, enough of everything. If the only thing standing between him and getting Vince back home was this bloody brute of a monster, then by god, he was going to show it what a Man of Action could do when he put his mind to it.

The sword suddenly felt lighter, more agile, almost like an extension of his own body. He still couldn't make out much in the darkness using his eyes, but something told him to run straight ahead. Energy bubbling up inside of him, he moved forward, the chaotic sounds of the Phetargans in battle fading out almost entirely. It was just him, and his sword, and Vince. There was a flash of white in front of him – teeth! And without thinking, without even feeling it, he plunged the sword upward and deep into the flesh of the beast. A deafening howl echoed throughout the cave, and Howard felt himself being dragged this way and that, but he held the sword in place with all his might. There was a thump, and a huge reverberation rumbling the ground. The beast had fallen. The beast was dead.

A cheer went up from the Phetargan tribesmen as Howard pulled his sword from the beast's neck, drenching himself in its blood but not caring, not caring at all. He had done it! He had actually done it! They could go home!

"Thraxos?" Howard yelled, unable to pick him out in the darkness. Thraxos appeared by his side.

"Maverick Howard Moon, you have slain the Beast of Beyond! Your victory will be known far and wide as –"

"No time. Vince." Howard turned and made for the light in the distance, a triumphant energy singing through his body. Within seconds he emerged into the precious beautiful daylight. His friend was still curled up on the mossy ground, a Phetargan tribesman watching over him.

"Vince! Little man, it's time to go home!"

Nothing.

"Vince!"

Nothing.

"Vince?"

The tribesman rose to his feet. He stared at Howard for an eternity, and then, very slowly, he shook his head.

* * *

**Stay tuned... more to come...**


	12. Law of Balance

**A/N Dedicated to Hattie (violence4) for holding up her end of the bargain and updating the stunning "Bliss of Another Kind". There's two chapters after this one, I think, so it's slowly coming to a close. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Howard stared at the Phetargan tribesman, trying to make sense of his actions. Why was he shaking his head? They had so little time. No time to waste. He moved towards Vince, and the tribesman caught his arm firmly.

"He's gone."

Howard pulled his arm away roughly and crouched down next to Vince.

"C'mon, little man, time to go home now."

Thraxos approached from behind, placing a hand on Howard's shoulder. Howard waved his arm back, pushing Thraxos away.

"C'mon Vince. C'mon. Time to go. Gotta get you fixed up, eh?"

Thraxos moved in again. "He's gone."

Howard turned angrily. "Why does everyone keep saying that! Fuck! You_ told_ me this would happen – he can't move, that's all! He won't respond because his mind's not right! We have to get him back home!" He turned back to Vince, nudging his shoulders. "Up you get, c'mon."

Vince didn't move at all.

"See?" stuttered Howard, intensely aware of all the tribe staring at him silently. "You see? He can't move. We'll have to carry him."

He slung one arm around Vince's shoulders and struggled with his weight.

"Come on! Help me!"

No one moved.

"Help me carry him! What's wrong with you?"

A still silence ruled over the moment.

"God, fine, fuck you all. I can carry him by myself." Howard took one step, then another, his legs buckling under Vince's weight. He collapsed to the ground, Vince thumping down with him. Howard growled in frustration, and Thraxos knelt down next to the two of them.

"Howard Moon. Can't you see? He is gone."

Howard snarled angrily at Thraxos. "No! You're wrong. You don't know. It's time to go home. I'm taking him home. Is the ritual ready?"

Thraxos bowed his head sadly. "Look, Howard Moon." He reached a cloaked arm towards Vince's face, but Howard pushed his arm away viciously.

"Don't touch him. Don't _touch _him!"

But as he struck Thraxos, his arm came in contact with Vince's cheek, and he instantly felt a shiver run through him. He froze for a second, and then slowly brought his palm up to Vince's forehead, which only hours ago had been burning up.

It was cold.

Cold.

Howard felt himself begin to tremble.

He felt for Vince's pulse. Feel the neck, feel the wrists. Don't check for a pulse with your thumb, always use your forefingers. He knew that. He knew how to do it.

No pulse.

Check again. Check three times. Four.

Still nothing.

There was something… CPR. Yes. He knew that too. Breathe into Vince's mouth, pump his chest three times. Breathe, pump three times. Keep going. Maybe he keep doing this forever, and Vince would never really be…

He felt Thraxos' hand again on his shoulder, and voices speaking to him, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. Breathe, pump three times. Breathe… fuck, Vince, just breathe, it's not difficult, just open your mouth and breathe…

He wasn't trembling anymore, he was shaking violently. Shaking so hard that he could hardly keep up with CPR. There were more hands on his shoulders now, pulling him back. He wrestled out of their grasp, pumping Vince's chest again.

Again, again.

Nothing.

He leant over to breathe oxygen into Vince's mouth once more, and as he moved in, he realized that Vince's eyes had opened, just a tiny fraction. His heart skipped a beat.

"Vince? Vince!"

But still, somehow, nothing.

Shuddering all over, he moved a trembling hand towards Vince's face, clenching his jaw together so tightly that his teeth threatened to crack. He could taste blood in his mouth.

He felt an eyelid.

He opened it.

Vince stared straight ahead. He stared at no one. There was no light in his eyes. They weren't Vince's eyes anymore. Vince was…

Gone.

Howard let out a howl from deep within himself, a howl which had been threatening to rip him apart since Naboo had first received that letter. He buried his face in Vince's chest, pawing at him, drenching Vince's body in the beast's blood that was still dripping from his hair. No tears, just an awful howl.

Thraxos tried to pull him aside, but Howard clung to Vince's body, to what was left of everything he cared about. His howl changed in pitch, twisting into a high, hollow keening, eyes closed, desperately taking in Vince's scent. The faintest trace of strawberries floated around him.

Time stopped having any meaning. Eventually, Thraxos called off his tribe, beckoning for them to give the maverick some space, but Howard didn't even notice. He pressed his face against Vince's cheeks, his hair, his hands. He uttered mournful sounds that seemed to come from outside of himself. He couldn't form words – words no longer had any meaning either. He and Vince were the whole world, and the whole world was screaming.

He might have been lying there for hours, before time started trickling back in. Howard opened his eyes, and gently closed Vince's, pressing his lips to his friend's forehead once again. Shivering, his voice hoarse and broken, he whispered into Vince's ear.

"I'm sorry Vince... I was too late. If I'd only…" His breath hitched in his throat. "Please come back to me… I can't… I miss you. I'll miss you forever, little man. You're the only…"

Tears were flowing freely now, his voice so faint that he could hardly hear himself speak. "You deserved better. You should have… you should have been saved. You should have… been protected. I was meant to do that. It's not right… it wasn't meant to be like this, and I…"

He felt for Vince's hand, gripping it tightly, trying to warm it up. "I love you. Please… please, I'll do anything." His voice cracked, and his words became meaningless, indiscernible, just tears and aching and wanting and Vince, Vince, Vince.

xxxx

The sun was low in the sky by the time that Howard finally wrenched himself from Vince's tiny body. Thraxos appeared at his side instantly.

"My mystics say that he stopped breathing not long after we entered the cave."

Howard nodded numbly.

"They say it was sudden, and that it was peaceful. Your Vince knew not who he was, and he felt no fear."

"He was in there somewhere" murmured Howard, almost to himself. "I swear he was. I could feel it."

"Your Vince… he means the world to you, does he not?"

"He does. He _is _my world. He was. He is."

"Do you truly mean that, Howard Moon?"

Howard looked back at Vince, lying in a crumpled heap behind him, and his face screwed up into a sob. He nodded, unable to find the words.

Thraxos leaned in and spoke softly. "Have you ever heard of transferralism?"

Howard shook his head, staring intently at his feet, his arms wrapped around himself like a one-man hug.

"Transferralism is an old magic, one of the oldest magics our tribe knows of. Its power lies in the natural order of balance."

Howard was feeling weak in the knees again – he took a step backwards and and held onto a tree to steady himself, tears blurring his vision, only barely catching Thraxos' words. Thraxos merely continued.

"Howard Moon, this magic can restore life."

In a second, Howard was alert again. He grabbed Thraxos by the shoulders. "What? You can bring him back? You can bring him _back!? _Why didn't you _tell _me?"

Thraxos pushed Howard back. "Calm yourself, maverick Howard Moon. I did not tell you because it is a deep magic, and it is complex, and may not work. Even if it does work, your Vince will not be restored fully to health – he will still need treatment from Naboo of Xooberon when you return home. And mostly, I did not tell you, because with spells such as these, there is always a price."

"Price? _Price?_ Are you kidding me? What is it? Anything, I'll pay it! Anything! I…" Howard's voice dropped. "I need him back."

"You do not understand. You can never have your Vince back. As I said, this magic relies on balance. You may restore life… but at the price of another."

Howard paused. He thought about what this meant. He thought about it for all of three seconds. "Do it. Do it now."

"You understand the price? You will give your own life as sacrifice?"

"Yes. Do it. Perform the spell."

"You will not change your mind? For if you are insincere about your pledge, the spell will not bind."

"I am. Look at me, I am! Just do it, please… "He looked over at Vince again. "He's so cold… he needs to be warm again."

Thraxos nodded his head. "Then it is as you desire. You three, we are to perform the transferralism spell. Come now."

The mystic Phetargans came forward. Thraxos beckoned them to Vince's body. "You must lie next to him – you must be touching for the spell to work" he told Howard, who immediately rushed over to Vince, grabbing his hand.

"Come on! Do it!"

Thraxos leaned over the two of them, his tribesmen gathered around in a circle. "I hope you are not thinking rashly. Decisions made rashly and without thought will not have power in them."

"I'm not. I know this is right. He wasn't meant to go... he has to come back. Even if I… look, just do it, alright? I don't just think it, I feel it. Everywhere."

"As you wish."

"You will – you will send him back home?"

"Of course."

"And don't – don't tell him what happened."

"We shall remain silent on the matter."

"Thankyou."

"You are welcome, Howard Moon, spanner of genres."

Without further ado, the Phetargans began chanting a strange, low-pitched language in fast rhythms. Howard gripped Vince's hand, looking across at his friend. The chanting sped up, faster and faster. Vince was still so cold… As the chanting reached a new dizzying speed, Howard began to feel a strange tingling through his whole body, and he rubbed his thumb over the back of Vince's hand, strangely not feeling frightened, knowing that Vince was going to be alright after all.

The tingling sensation overtook his senses.

Coloured swirled.

His pulse began to rush.

Colours faded to black.

There was a loud crash.

He was nowhere and everywhere.

He could still feel Vince's hand.

Another loud crash.

Rumbling, from beneath and above.

Then, suddenly, nothing.

xxxx

Vince opened his eyes.

And so did Howard.

* * *

**I won't leave you hanging for too long, don't worry. xoxo**


	13. Darxeeta to Dalston

**A/N This will be the second-last chapter, so just one more to go and then it's all over! It's a bit sad, really; I've really enjoyed writing this. Anyway hope you guys like this one.**

* * *

Howard sat up, gasping, oxygen rushing back into his lungs, feeling the world crashing back in. He blinked, confused, his surroundings slowly coming into focus. What was happening? Where was…

He turned, and saw Vince sit up and yawn. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his whole life. He stared, fixated, and Vince looked back at him.

"Howard? What happened?"

Howard rolled his friend into a bear hug, holding him as tightly as he could. "Vince. Vince. Oh, god. Oh my god. Vince."

Vince broke free of the hug, still looking pale, but his eyes bright. "What the hell happened? Where are we? I don't understand."

"You… and then we… I don't…" Howard spluttered words at the disorientated younger man, unable to wrench his eyes away from the magnificent sight of his friend looking, breathing, talking, moving. He felt tears brimming behind his eyes, but they wouldn't spill.

"Howard, what's wrong?"

"Vince, you… something awful happened, but you're alright, you're okay."

"What _happened_, Howard?"

"You kind of… died."

"I _what?_"

"You died. Basically. You died, and I… I don't know. I don't know what happened."

Thraxos stepped in, kneeling down in between the two of them. "Congratulations, Howard Moon. It was as I anticipated. Come, talk with me."

Howard felt hesitant moving away from Vince, but he had to know what had happened to them. He rose to his feet unsteadily, taking a few steps with Thraxos at his side.

"What was as you anticipated?" Howard asked, feeling giddy with disorientation and happiness.

"When you agreed to the spell, there was a clause which I hid from you. I couldn't have told you at the time, or your intentions would have been disingenuous."

"What clause? Thraxos, tell me. I should be…" Howard lowered his voice to a whisper. "I should be dead."

"The spell worked as I said it would. You agreed to the law of balance, and to the sacrifice required. When the incantation was complete, the spell did your bidding. You died, Howard Moon. For the briefest of moments. But the thing that you did not know, was that sometimes, on the rarest of occasions, an individual can hold so much love for another in their heart, that they almost become a single entity with that person. Two sides of the same coin, if you will."

Howard frowned. "I still don't understand…"

"Maverick Howard Moon, when you died, you restored your Vince back to life. But your Vince rules so much of your heart and soul, that the spell saw his life-force in yours, and bounced back, resurrecting you as well. In saving him, in offering yourself up for him, you saved yourself."

"You… you knew this would happen?"

"I did not know for certain, but I have sensed your heart, and I felt as if it could be possible. That kind of devotion is very difficult to come by, Howard Moon."

Howard turned in Vince's direction, watching his friend weakly try to move from the ground with little success, like baby deer, staring at his surroundings with big curious eyes. He smiled. "You don't know Vince" he said to Thraxos quietly. "If you did, you'd see that it's not difficult at all."

He left Thraxos and returned to Vince's side, sitting next to him, still marveling at every inch of him. Vince lay back on the earth, exhausted, smiling at Howard. "So, you gonna tell me what happened?"

"They aren't sure. You were dead, and somehow, now, you're not. It's a miracle. _You're_ a mira… you're very lucky. It's some kind of strange magic – it brought you back." Howard held back from the truth, not wanting to burden Vince's mind any further with tales of his bargain. He closed his eyes against the setting sun, taking time to revel in the moment, and felt Vince's hand snaking its way into his own.

"Howard?"

Howard felt a rush of comfort, hearing his name spoken like that once again, half child-like and curious, half sly and knowing, all Vince. He gripped Vince's hand in return. "Yeah, little man?"

"Can we go home now? I'm so tired."

"Anything you say."

The two friends broke contact, and Howard hung back with Thraxos while the other Phetargans took Vince into the cave to prepare the reversal spell.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me and Vince. I still don't know why you went to so much trouble to help us."

"We were in your debt, and were obliged to level it. Balance, you see. We cannot thank you enough for passing onto our tribe the ancient art of scat, maverick Howard Moon."

"Oh, it's nothing, really."

"It is not nothing. With this gift, we shall re-group and lead a revolution against the Darxeetans. You have saved the lives and restored the dignity of generations of Phetargans. We shall be forever grateful." Thraxos bowed before Howard, and led him back into the cave.

Inside, the Phetargans set up the reversal ritual in the spot where Howard had first materialized. As before, they were standing in a circle, holding candles this time which gave off a strange and intoxicating scent. Howard and Vince were positioned in the middle of the circle. Thraxos briefly entered into the space and whispered something into Vince's ear. Howard had no time to be confused, however, because soon enough the chanting began, and he and Vince joined hands as was required. Vince was looking so tired that he could hardly take in what was happening. Howard, on the other hand, was thinking at a million miles an hour. This was it. No more Darxeeta. No more danger. A cup of tea was minutes away. And Vince was standing next to him.

The chanting increased in intensity, and the candles burned brightly, colours dancing in their flames. Through the sounds of the ritual, Howard heard Thraxos booming "Fare thee well, Howard Moon, maverick, scat master, spanner of genres, saviour of our people."

Then all the colours of the dancing flames bled into each other, and then dropped out of focus. Darkness took over for a second, and then a rushing sensation, and colour crashed back in. Different colours, though. Purple. Green. A sofa. A clock. Dalston.

They were home.

Vince dropped to his knees. "Urg… Howard, I feel all woozy…"

Howard didn't have time to take in the impact of their return home; he was at Vince's side instantly, leading him to the sofa and sitting him down. "Sit tight, little man, we're home now. We just need to find…Naboo!"

Naboo trudged into the living room, looking groggy and stressed. He looked at Howard, then at Vince, then back at Howard again, before finally speaking.

"You… I thought you were… god, am I _that_ stoned?"

"No, Naboo, it's us! We came back!"

Naboo's eyes widened. "But you… I haven't been able to contact you in days! Me and Bollo thought you were dead!"

Bollo appeared from the kitchen. "What you say? Hey!" He noticed Howard and Vince. "Precious flower! He back!" He made a move to run towards Vince, but Naboo held him back as Howard continued.

"I lost the ring. I'm a ballbag, I know. But you can tell me that later. Vince is sick, he needs treatment. Darxeetan steel. Now!"

Naboo snapped into action, peering quickly at Vince's injuries, asking Bollo to retrieve items from his magic supplies, and moving Vince with Bollo's help into his bedroom. Naboo then ushered Howard out. "I need space for this to work. It'll be a few hours."

Howard left the room, feeling a little agitated at the idea of leaving Vince's side again, but knowing that his friend was in capable hands. He went into his own bedroom and lay down on the bed, reveling in the comfort of the blankets. For a moment, it was as if he had never even been away, though the return of the dull ache in his head and the soreness of his muscles reminded him that it wasn't so. There was another pain, too. A strange pain, like a tightness in his chest. Vince… he had been dead. _Dead._ He had held his corpse. And now he was alive. Howard felt as if he didn't have enough in him to work through the emotion that Vince's resurrection had caused. The tears still refused to spill, burning inside him, the pain of losing Vince still hanging over him like a shadow in his heart, and he was tired, so tired, that he couldn't make sense of anything. He remembered Vince's hand, snaking its way into his own. He remembered Vince grinning. He remembered curling up together in the woods, in the camp, in the tunnel. He remembered the kiss.

Seized by a sudden desire to return to Vince's side, Howard had to force himself to stay put, to leave Naboo and Bollo to care for him. They were safe now, Vince was safe now. All Howard could do was sleep. Only, he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, just like the first night before he left to Darxeeta. The thing was, he wasn't in danger anymore. He wasn't petrified of the morning. Why all this tossing and turning, then? Howard's stomach flipped a little when he realized. This was the first time in four nights that he had slept without Vince in his arms. And he couldn't sleep without him. Oh, _god. _

Somehow, after hours of restlessness, Howard did eventually doze off. He woke up slowly, feeling sort of cold and lonesome, and staggered into the living room. Naboo was perched on the sofa, and immediately rose to meet him.

"Naboo – is he alright? Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine, Howard. He was pretty out of it - he's sleeping off the rest of the treatment. Bollo's keeping an eye on him."

Howard felt a stab of jealousy and tried to ignore it. "So, he's not in any danger?"

"Not anymore. You were lucky you got him here when you did. But how…"

"Didn't Vince tell you?"

"Nah, like I said, he was pretty out of it. Looks like he hasn't slept or eaten properly in ages." Howard now felt a pang of guilt. Vince was his charge. Why had he let him…

"It's kind of a long story, Naboo."

"Give me the short version, then."

"Well, basically, after I left the Phetargans, I lost the ring somewhere in the Forest of Naang, possibly in a knife fight with some monkeys."

Naboo's eyes widened.

"Then I got into the fortress, only the Darxeetans thought I was a comedian, and I had to perform on stage. Then I used this invisibility charm that the Phetargans gave me, so I snuck up to where they were holding Vince, and I watched them…" his voice trailed off. "I watched them…"

Naboo's expression softened. "Take your time."

"They were torturing him. It was… I don't know. It was the worst thing I've ever felt. But then they caught me, and tortured me too, but I kind of knocked the guard unconscious with a chair, and used Morse code to get rid of the other one."

Naboo's eyes became even wider.

"So, then a bunch of Darxeetans ran in and try to shoot us, but I started scatting, and for some reason scat is poison to these guys, so we got out of the fortress alright, except I lost the rucksack with everything in it, including the teleporting stone."

Naboo frowned. "But how did you…"

"Well, we bumped into Thraxos, he's the Phetargan leader, and him and his tribe performed a reversal ritual to get us back home. Only, before that, I had to kill the Beast of Beyond, and then Vince… something happened, only it's okay because he's fine now, and here we are."

"But the Darxeetans… they won't follow you back here?"

"Doubt it. The Phetargans are preparing a scat-powered revolution against them as we speak. I'm pretty sure they're out of business for good."

Naboo took a step towards Howard. "But what… what happened to Vince?"

"He… the poison. It was too much. He… he couldn't breathe. He stopped… he died." Howard felt tears prick his eyes, the memory of those awful moments stinging painfully.

Naboo looked at Howard solemnly. "I know what you did."

"What?" Howard sniffed back tears.

"I know what you did. There's only one way to bring someone back like that. You did a transferralism spell, didn't you."

"Yeah…yeah, that's what Thraxos called it. He helped us, because I taught his tribe how to scat."

"You agreed to transferralism? You did that for Vince?"

"Well, it worked out alright, didn't it. We both came back."

"But you weren't to know."

"No, I suppose not."

"You were going to give up your life for him?"

"…yeah. It felt…like the right thing to do. The only thing to do, really."

Naboo placed his hand on Howard's. "You know, when you set off on this mission, I really didn't rate your chances highly. I thought you'd be there for a few hours, and you'd teleport home at the first sign of danger. But you…"

To Howard's surprise, he noticed tears forming in Naboo's eyes as the tiny shaman spoke.

"…You did all of this. Without my help. You risked everything… I thought you had failed. I never thought you had it in you…I never had faith…" Naboo's face crumbled into a sob and Howard drew him into a hug.

They broke apart, and Naboo stared levelly at Howard.

"Howard. God. I'm…I'm so sorry." Naboo's face was tear-stained. So, Howard noticed, was his own.

"I don't blame you," came his own voice, strangled with emotion. "I never would have thought I had it in me either. And I screwed up a lot, and made so many mistakes, but…"

Something suddenly clicked in Howard's mind. _The vision-maker_. His solemn expression was overruled by a huge joyful grin, and despite everything, he laughed. "Yes!" he grabbed Naboo in another hug and spun the tiny shaman around in a circle.

"Alright, settle down" said Naboo, regaining his trademark composure. "Now, do you want to see Vince?"

"Please."

Naboo led Howard into the bedroom and beckoned for Bollo to leave the two of them alone. Bollo stopped at the doorway and clapped his big gorilla hands over Howard's shoulders.

"Howard did good."

"You remembered my name" said Howard, quite touched.

"Howard bring back precious flower. Bollo play Weather Report next time at Roller Disco. Promise. Maybe even Level 42."

Howard grinned. "Cheers Bollo."

Vince was sleeping peacefully, the colour already returning to his cheeks. Howard sat down next to him, reaching immediately for his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. To his surprise, Vince squeezed back, and slowly opened his eyes.

"Howard."

"Hey, little man. Feeling any better?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

"Happy to be home then?"

"Howard, I know how I came back."

"Er…what do you mean?"

"Thraxos told me, before we got sent home. He told me that you gave me your life. And that you could have died. He said that I was yours."

Howard felt a redness creeping down his cheeks. "You weren't meant to… I wasn't going to tell you."

"Why not?" asked Vince, indignantly.

"You've been through so much already… I didn't want to worry you."

"You're a berk, Howard. And a jerk-off."

"Oi!"

"I'm serious. I want to know these things. I want to know everything about you." That sentence hung in the air for a moment, an electric tension rising in the air between them.

"Howard, you were going to die for me."

"Really, don't think about it. It's over now, I'm not dead, we're both fine."

"I think it was a kind of shitty thing to do." Vince's voice was sparked with anger, now. Howard was taken by surprise.

"What? How on earth…"

"Actually, it was _really_ shitty, Howard. You're an absolute toss-pot. How could you be so _stupid?_" Vince's voice was rising in volume and pitch.

"Vince, I…"

"How could you even _think_ about doing something like that?" Vince was almost yelling now.

"Why are you so… I don't get it…" Howard struggled to find words.

"What makes you think I would have wanted to?"

"Wanted to…what?"

"Wanted to come back. Without you." Vince's voice broke, and his anger melted away in an instant as he reached for Howard, pulling him into a hug and muttering into his shoulder. "I couldn't without you. I couldn't. I lost you once, and I thought the world was ending. I just couldn't…"

Howard wrapped his arms firmly around his friend, muttering in return into Vince's hair. "Me either, little man." He planted a kiss on Vince's head without really noticing, wrapped up in his warmth. He thought he felt Vince doing the same on his shoulder, but he couldn't be sure. Eventually they broke apart, Vince's eyes still glistening with tears but a loving smile plastered across his face.

"Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Sleep in here tonight, yeah?"

"It's kind of daylight, Vince."

"Well…true, but I reckon I need to sleep a bit more, and you still look kind of wasted…"

"…thanks…"

"So maybe we could have a little sleepie anyway?"

"I think that can be arranged" replied Howard, making himself comfortable next to Vince.

"I…I missed this" Vince's voice was small and quiet now.

"Missed what?"

"This. Sleeping together. I mean…not like that, obviously… I mean… you know. It's just comfy, is all."

"Mm. I missed it too, little man."

Vince shifted towards Howard, burying his face in Howard's neck. "I can't believe what you did, Howard. I can't believe it."

"Shh, Vince. We can talk about it later. Just get some rest." Howard moved his arm around Vince's body, holding him close, feeling giddy and excited, but somehow still and peaceful at the same time.

"Howard?"

"Mm?"

"What're we going to do tomorrow?"

"Well, I figure we're long overdue for a real day off, don't you?"

"Definitely."

"So, I reckon we go into town, if you're feeling up to it. We can get ice cream and go on that big Ferris Wheel you're always babbling about. And then we can finally do that Colobus the Crab marathon in the evening."

"That sounds genius."

"Get some sleep, though. We're not going out if you still feel ill."

"Yeah, yeah."

Howard closed his eyes and settled into the blankets.

"Howard?"

"Yeah, little man?"

"You're my favourite thing to cuddle."

* * *

**See you guys for the conclusion! Expect large doses of fluff.**


	14. A Day Off

**A/N Here it is, the end of the Odyssey. It's quite long, but I couldn't bear to split it up. Also, the London geography is based on my memories of being there, but it's been a while, so apologies if it's a little off! It's quite sad, actually, leaving this fic behind. I had a lot of fun with it, and I hope you all did too. Thankyou again so very much for reading and reviewing; this was my first long story and I was nervous, but you guys have all been so supportive. This final chapter is dedicated to all you English people who're finishing their GCSE's or A levels etcetera around now - congratulations, and enjoy the freedom! Love you all xoxo.**

* * *

Vince spent the rest of the day and night resting. Though his treatment was working fine, his time in the Darxeetan fortress had really taken its toll on him, and he needed all the sleep he could get. His recovery sped by quickly for Howard, who spent most of his time checking in on his friend, and re-capping his adventures over and over again with the still awe-struck Naboo and Bollo. When he rested, he rested in Vince's bed. The two of them would lie side by side, often with one or both of them asleep, and every now and again Howard would wake up to see a smile from Vince, or vice versa. Bollo made them fairy cakes and tried his hardest not to roll his big gorilla eyes at the sight of Howard and Vince snuggled up together.

Finally, the next day arrived, and Vince woke up looking more or less like his usual self. The shop was closed for the day, and Howard was preparing breakfast after Naboo and Bollo left on shaman duty when he heard Vince's door open, and turned to see the rather adorable sight of Vince shuffling into the kitchen, his blanket curled around his entire body and his head like a fluro nun.

"Morning, Howard."

"My, don't you look handsome today. Is that the latest fashion?"

"Shut up" replied Vince, mock-insulted.

"No, I'm serious!" chuckled Howard. "It's a good look for you. Blanket-chique. It'll save you all that time you usually spend getting ready – now, you can just wake up and go!"

"Oh yeah? Well I'd rather wear my blanket out than a multi-porpoise tweed fertility suit!"

"I think you'll find that it's a multi-purpose tweed utility suit, Vince."

"Whatever, at least my blanket has colours!"

"Everything has a colour, Vince."

"Tweed is so _not _a colour."

"Tweed isn't the colour, it's the fabric. The colour is…" _shit, what was the colour of tweed?_

"Ha! You don't even know! You great northern pillock."

"Oi, don't be dissing the man who's making your breakfast!"

"Oooh, whatcha cooking?"

Howard smiled and positioned himself so he was blocking Vince's vision of the stove. "Oh, just a little surprise… a welcome back to health surprise. Something I thought you'd like. Of course, you probably don't want a great northern pillock making your breakfast, do you? Maybe I should just throw it all out…"

"No, no, no!" Vince scrambled his way past Howard, who had a big grin plastered across his face as his friend saw what he was preparing.

"Pancakes! With… everything!"

"That's right, sir."

"Maple syrup and strawberries and blueberries and chocolate and jam and sugar and sprinkles and … wow! Everything's so colourful!"

"When Howard Moon makes pancakes, he goes all out."

"Aw, Howard, you're a genius!"

As the two of them settled down to what was probably the most ridiculous and unhealthy breakfast Howard had ever had a hand in creating, the easy banter flowed between them, relaxing the atmosphere and warming the tightness in Howard's stomach. Vince teased him mercilessly all morning, taking advantage of his sudden return to health by jumping and scampering around Howard like a bluebottle, poking him in the ribs when he wasn't looking, flicking leftover strawberries at his head. Howard played along in faux-shock, retaliating where he could but mostly just inwardly marveling at his friend's renewed energy. Every time Vince came near him, a ripple of heat rushed through Howard's insides, throwing him off balance.

All the bouncing around in the kitchen proved enough for Howard that his friend was feeling well again, so that afternoon as planned the two of them got the tube into town. Naboo actually offered them a lift on the carpet, hush-hush, but Howard politely declined, having had quite enough of magical assistance to last him a lifetime.

The rest of the afternoon passed by like a montage, or at least it seemed that way to Howard. He bought the two of them ice-cream (Rocky Road for Vince, naturally, and a more dignified mocha-walnut for himself). They rode the Ferris wheel by the river, Vince squealing in delight as they neared the top of the ascent, leaning over the edge of the cable car and inadvertently emptying out the loose change and sweets from his pockets onto the unsuspecting crowd below. They browsed the shops on Oxford Street (well, Vince browsed, Howard just focused on not passing out from colour overload). They talked a lot. Almost constantly, they talked to each other, or at each other. Yabbering, bickering, teasing, crimping. Vince laughed a lot. Those moments, the moments when Howard felt that deliciously frightening rush of electricity in his gut, they passed by like photographs. Outside Topshop, in the queue for ice-cream, waiting for the lights to turn green at Piccadilly Circus. Amidst all the hustle and bustle of the city, he didn't have time to gather his thoughts, and Vince seemed just as caught up in the buzz as he was. It was a million light-years away from the stillness of the woodlands or the solitude of the tunnels, and part of Howard was terrified that they'd never get that stillness back, now that everything was so familiar once again.

Things began to shift – the atmosphere, the buzz, the space between them – in the early evening, when Vince suggested they swing by one of his favourite city clubs, just to "do the rounds, let them know I'm still on the scene." Howard grudgingly complied, if only because he didn't think he had it in him to refuse Vince anything anymore.

"So whaddya think?" bellowed Vince over the loud electro music pumping through the club's speakers.

"Er… yeah, it's interesting" yelled Howard, looking around warily. Everyone in here looked like a peacock or an alien. Then again, so did Vince, usually, it was just that Howard was used to the way he looked. _Liked_ the way he looked, in fact.

"Don't fib, Howard, you hate it!"

"No, no, not at all, it's just different …"

"You _what?_"

"I _said_, it's _different" _he yelled.

"I'm sorry, Howard. We can go if you want."

Howard looked longingly at the exit for a split second, but then saw the hope and enthusiasm in his friend's eyes, and though, _bugger it. I can deal with being in Vince's element for one evening. _He smiled at Vince with what he hoped was an equally enthusiastic grin.

"No, I want to stay."

Vince beamed. He ushered Howard towards the bar, locking eyes and nudging him affectionately with his elbow as if to say _"I know you're staying for me, and I appreciate it."_ They both settled down next to the bar, Vince with a flirtini and Howard with a pint, abandoning any attempts at conversation because they both had to shout to be heard, and Howard's voice was already growing sore and hoarse. He was content with nodding his head to the beat, vaguely watching the DJ spin out tune after mindless tune. Vince bumped into quite a few friends, and went up onto the dance-floor with them. He raised his eyebrows at Howard, asking him to follow, but Howard raised his hand with a smile, declining – there were many things Howard was willing to do for Vince, but dancing to electro was not one of them. Vince shrugged, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Howard feeling his absence immediately.

For the next hour, Vince returned to the bar only to order more flirtinis and to give Howard a quick poke in the side or pat on the shoulder, his movements becoming slightly more exaggerated with each cocktail. Meanwhile, Howard was enjoying a light-headed sensation which came mostly from all the pints he had been downing in Vince's absence. The bright colours of the club were wavering, slightly, before his eyes, and when he saw Vince muscle through the crowd back towards him, clutching a fiver in his hand, the fluttering in his chest and stomach blossomed so quickly that he actually had to sit on his hands to stop himself from pulling Vince into an embarrassing hug, or… or, something else. He didn't know what.

Vince didn't make for the bar, though. He caught Howard's eye for a second, and stuffed the fiver back into his pocket, grinning a little cheekily. Howard was just about to ask, or shout, what was up, when Vince rushed towards him and spoke directly into his ear.

"Dance with me."

Vince's face was so close to Howard's that the older man could distinctly hear everything his friend said. He could even feel the vibrations of the words against his skin, and the sensation sent a shiver down his neck, rendering him unable to respond for a moment.

"**Dance with me"**repeated Vince, slowly this time, the traces of boyish cheek in his voice replaced with a surprisingly forceful lower register. Howard frowned, then grinned, shaking his head as if to say _"don't be ridiculous, Vince."_

But Vince had taken his hand and was pulling him off the bar stool and to his feet, leading him away from his comfort zone, towards the harsh lights of the dance floor. Howard pulled back on Vince's grip, standing his ground. Vince whipped around indignantly, wobbling a little from the alcohol. The music was so loud here, deafeningly loud.

Vince made a gesture with his hands that said _"what's the problem?" _

Howard returned with a gesture which he hoped said something along the lines of "_it's nothing personal, I just don't dance"_, rather than _"I don't want to dance with __**you**__", _or even worse, _"I am dying to dance with you, but I'm afraid that I won't ever be able to take my hands off you again." _Luckily, Vince didn't stop to analyse the gesture; he merely rolled his eyes. Howard tried in vain to wrestle out of Vince's grip, embarrassed, feeling like a … well, a jazz maverick in an electro bar, but Vince pulled him close and murmured once again into his ear, having to stand on tip-toes to reach.

"Please. I want to dance with you."

Howard closed his eyes for a minute, savoring the closeness, still a little giddy from the beer, the realization beginning to dawn upon him that something was happening… something was in the air, and this time it wasn't the threat of impending doom. Still, his old fears bubbled up inside his gut, and he shook his head at Vince, shrugging his shoulders, trying to act out an apology for his lack of social cool. Vince leant up to his ear again.

"You scared?"

Howard nodded, hanging his head a little, feeling for a moment like the world's greatest dud. How was it possible that he could go from fearlessly (well, almost fearlessly) facing mortal danger on an alien planet, to being petrified on the dance floor of an electro club, a tube-ride away from home? It was maddening, honestly. Vince merely smiled back at him, looking up into his eyes with a simple affection, tinged with something else, something wanting. He murmured again.

"You can't be scared. You're my hero."

Howard frowned, taken by surprise. Vince giggled, maybe a little nervously, and a grin started curling up the side of Howard's mouth, his anxieties ebbing back.

"Come on, hero!" Vince shouted. "A victory dance! Come on!"

Howard rolled his eyes as he felt himself being dragged, not so forcefully now, onto the dance floor, a fast-pumping beat vibrating through the floorboards. He looked around him – everyone else seemed to know what they were doing, and they were doing it fast. How do you learn these things? _Was it instinct?_ he wondered. Just as he was about to ask Vince what the hell he was meant to be doing, the tune morphed into a slow ballad… _God, it's a love song. At least I can dance to that, _he though. _Everyone can slow dance, can't they!?_

But Howard needn't have worried – Vince, it seemed, was taking charge. He took Howard's arm and wrapped it around his own waist, placing his hand on Howard's shoulder, drawing himself close against the whole of Howard's body, swaying slowly to the music playing overhead. Vince held his head against Howard's chest, and Howard mimicked his movements, swaying side to side, feet moving in a slow waltz, looking over Vince's head at the crowd and feeling immensely proud because of who he was dancing with. Vince tilted his head upwards, staring at Howard, and nudged Howard's chin with his nose, his trademark cheeky grin resurfacing on his face. Howard nudged back playfully, pressing his nose against Vince's forehead and sticking his tongue out, faux-menacing, all the while moving to the beat, holding his friend close. Vince widened his eyes in a look of mock-terror, which then morphed into something more devilish, and Howard felt a sharp poke in the ribs.

"Ow!" he glared at Vince, still dancing.

Vince moved his arm back to Howard's shoulder, pouting in a melodrama of apology. Howard had to clench his teeth a little to stop himself from following his rather bizarre impulse to lean forward a fraction and bite Vince's big bottom lip, which was pouting at him in a maddeningly flirtatious manner, making him feel warm, warmer than warm, kind of boiling all over. Holding eye contact, Vince drew himself even closer to Howard, swaying to the music, back and forth, side to side, left to right, pressing himself against Howard's body a little too firmly for a waltz.

Howard was more than happy to let Vince lead the proceedings. Something was definitely happening, that was for sure, but beyond that, it seemed that the maverick was sailing unknown waters. He felt giddy, a little weak at the knees, too warm under the collar, utterly intoxicated. Vince was right there, right there in front of him, staring into his eyes like he was so… special. The way Vince was looking at him, it seemed like… well, it sounded crazy, but it seemed like, just maybe, he was trying to… _what, Howard? Trying to __**hit**__ on you?_ But it didn't seem that ridiculous an idea, with Vince looking up at him with those enormous baby blues, sucking on his lower lip, a dark and mischievous look in his eyes. _Don't forget,_ Howard thought, _he kissed you before._ But that was different. Vince had been dying. He had been going mad. God, maybe he had been mad at the time, and Howard hadn't even noticed! Maybe Vince didn't even remember!

Vince nudged him a little, shaking him from his plagued thoughts. He raised his eyebrows in query, and Vince stood up on tiptoes again to reach his ear.

"Fancy a bit of air?"

Howard nodded, and followed Vince through the sweaty moving crowd, out a side exit and onto a deck which, somehow, mercifully, was deserted. Vince stretched his arms out over the railing, staring up at the stars. Howard stared up too, leaning back against the wall of the club, noticing the strange and kind of delirious stillness in the air. A few moments passed before Vince spoke.

"Loud enough in there for you?"

"I don't know how you do this every weekend, honestly."

Vince chuckled. "Come on, it's _not_ that bad."

"My ears are still ringing."

"Really? Mine aren't."

"Maybe you're going deaf."

"As if."

"I feel like _I'm _going deaf, and I was only in there for an hour or so. I can't imagine what it does to you if you go there every bloody night."

"I am not going deaf, you knob. If I was, I wouldn't mind listening to all your jazzy scat rubbish." Vince poked his tongue out.

"Hold your tongue, sir. Scat saved your life!"

"No, _you_ saved my life."

There was a pause; the heaviest pause imaginable. Somehow Vince had moved closer to Howard, or maybe Howard had done the same. They locked eyes, and Howard felt the intensity of Vince's stare, his crystal eyes boring into him, almost daring him, his cheeky smile all but faded, his jaw quivering a little, betraying – what looked like – nerves? Howard clenched his hands. The space between them was molten, electric, alight. Then –

"Oi, you geezers got a cigarette?"

A drunken patron pushed through the door behind them, staggering onto the deck, along with a flock of mates. Howard fought every single one of his instincts not to grab the man by his collar and throw him over the railing, instead just shrugging apologetically. "We don't smoke." The men didn't seem interested in moving on, however, pushing and jostling each other, clinking bottles, their loud voices tearing through the delicate atmosphere. Vince seemed to sense Howard's frustration, and he smiled sympathetically, beckoning his friend down the stairs and out onto the street.

"C'mon, maybe we can get a bite to eat. I'm a bit sick of the club."

"Thank god for that."

They wandered through the crowded city streets, walking side by side, looking up or down straight ahead, and rarely, at each other. The tingly sensation in Howard's stomach began rising again. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He'd had enough tension to last him a lifetime in the past week, and now to finally come home and find his nerves still working overtime… unfair, was what it was. Unfair, and stressful, and… he caught Vince's eye briefly… yeah, maybe it felt sort of wonderful too.

They must have been walking for a while before Howard floated down to reality for a moment. They were standing at the intersection of Shaftsbury Avenue and Charing Cross Road, and he wondered where the hell they were going.

"Vince, where exactly are we going to eat?"

"Oh, what? I've been following you!"

Howard rolled his eyes. "Great. You're telling me we've just been walking aimlessly for the past twenty minutes?"

"Uh-huh." Vince grinned.

"Well, come on, where do you want to eat?"

"Dunno. You know me, I'm happy with crisps."

"We are _not_ having crisps for dinner, Vince."

"Spoilsport."

"We had pancakes for breakfast. Ice cream for lunch. You do realize you're headed for a sugar overdose, don't you?"

"Sounds good to me."

"What, death by sugar? Seems like a good way to go."

Howard froze up. It was ridiculous, he knew it, but Vince's throwaway comment reminded him of his friend's death – it pulled him back to that awful moment when he realized that Vince wasn't waking up. He remembered thumping on his chest, begging him to breathe. Still a little tipsy, he felt tears pricking his eyes, and too late tried to blink them away, embarrassed, mortified.

Vince reached for his hand. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No, no, don't apologize. _I'm _sorry. It's just… it's been a long week, y'know."

"I shouldn't have dragged you to that club. You're exhausted."

"You know, I actually had a good time. Eventually."

Vince smiled. Not a sly smile, or a childish one, just a stunningly honest genuine smile – the kind of smile that made it hard to imagine how anything could ever be wrong with the world.

"Howard, I never really got to say…"

"To say what?"

"Thankyou."

"Come off it, you don't need to thank me. What're friends for?"

"I _do _need to thank you. Do you realize what you did? Do you? You saved my life. You traveled to that bloody alien planet all by yourself…" (A few passersby turned their heads in surprise) "…and you fought all kinds of things, and nearly got killed a billion times, hell you kick-started a bloody revolution! And you never gave up."

Howard realized that he and Vince were still holding hands, standing there at the intersection. He couldn't move. Vince was everything.

"You could have died, Howard. You _did_ die! Even if it was for a second. Every time something went wrong, you came through. And the thing is, I knew you would. That's the only thought that kept me going when, you know, all that stuff was happening. I knew you'd come. It's all I could think about."

"Don't know why you'd have that kind of faith in me" said Howard, trying to be jokey and casual but coming off as stilted and nervous. "I always run away."

"I know you do. But it was different this time. It was proper danger, y'know? And as soon as they took me, I knew you'd be coming after me. I could just feel it. You know, I could feel it even when I was getting sick and going all crazy. I was trying to tell you, but the words came out all wrong."

Howard remembered Vince's insane ramblings… _"__The moon… doesn't… it comes back. Glowing."_ The Moon. That was him. God, he felt more tears pricking his eyes. Vince noticed, and brought up his free hand to wipe them away.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't, Vince. I just… I don't know what to…"

"What's wrong?" Vince's hand gripped more tightly around Howard's.

"Nothing. I just… I'm sorry, but it's hard. I look at you, and I remember you being, you know, dead. And now you're so alive. It's strange. It's wonderful, but it's strange. I get caught up, you know, remembering."

Vince stared back at Howard, not saying anything for a minute. Howard could feel his friend's hand trembling just a little against his own, and to his surprise, Vince's eyes seemed to gloss over a little. Tears?

"H-Howard." Vince cleared his throat. "You're amazing. You are _amazing_."

"It's you" replied Howard, still holding Vince's hand.

"What's me?"

"All of it. Every time I got stuck in some life or death situation, it was you that got me through. I'd get this rush of strength or adrenaline or something, knowing that I had to get to you. All those "amazing" things I did, it was your strength, not mine."

Vince sniffed, his voice wobbling a little. "You know, maybe it's shared strength. Remember what Thraxos said? About how the spell brought us both back, cuz we're kind of the same on the inside or something?"

"Two sides of the same coin."

"Yeah. You're still a hero though."

Howard smiled. "It's about time someone thought so, I suppose." He ran his fingers over Vince's, realizing suddenly that they were perilously close to either breaking physical contact _(no, please don't) _or making something else happen. He frowned, staring upward and noticing the first signs of rainfall on his face. Vince was still staring at him… god, what Vince _want?_

"Er… I guess we better be heading back." Howard cursed himself for saying that, but he couldn't help it; it had just slipped out. He didn't want to head back! He didn't want to break contact with Vince, but that had just happened too. He clenched his fingers into his own palm; a poor substitute.

"Yeah, I guess." Vince sounded quiet, almost dejected, brushing the rain off his jacket. "Did you want to call Naboo, get him to pick us up on the carpet?"

"No, I've had enough magic to last me through at least the next fortnight. I'm officially taking a break from magic."

"Tube it is then" murmured Vince.

There was an awkward charged pause. Neither of them made the first movement towards the station; they were waiting for each other. The tension grew too quickly for Howard, and he broke the pause, taking the first few steps away from the corner and towards Leicester Square. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Howard, wait!"

He turned.

The crowd faded into nothing, and it was just Vince.

"Howard, I just wanted to say…"

"Vince I'm in love with you." Howard had blurted out the words, hardly realizing. He realized now, though. Oh, god. He bit his tongue. What had he done? What if Vince was freaked out, what if he…

But no. A smile was shining forth from Vince's face. He tugged Howard towards him, and Howard realized a millisecond before it happened that Vince was going to kiss him. Their lips met, standing on a busy street corner, buses and taxis rushing past, passersby whistling at them, the rain beating down upon their heads. At first the kiss was hungry, needy, dangerous, all teeth and tongue until the tension between them melted away, and then it was softer, slower. Howard grabbed Vince around the waist and held him close, another dance. Breath mingled. Hands clenched and grasped. Vince nipped on Howard's lower lip, and Howard groaned a little, sucking Vince's lower lip in return and forcing a whimper from the younger man. Howard's hands ran up the back of Vince's shirt, his fingers ghosting over Vince's skin. Vince rocked his hips a little in response, and the delicious friction forced them both to murmur sounds of appreciation into each others' mouths. The kiss… oh, the kiss, it could have lasted forever.

Howard felt dizzy, elevated, like he was in a dream. Eventually, he and Vince pulled back a little, arms still wrapped around each other, and Howard gazed into Vince's eyes. Vince leaned up and pecked him on lips playfully, his cheeky smile still hovering over his features but his eyes betraying something more vulnerable.

"Howard… you meant that, yeah?"

"Of course I did. I love you. It's been driving me crazy."

"I know the feeling" Vince smiled.

They kissed again, softly, quietly. Howard fought the impulse to shout out to everyone in the street that he was holding his best friend, kissing his best friend, this wonderful fantastic beautiful creature named Vince.

"Howard… you really want this? I just want to make sure it's not just… I dunno… post-rescue stress relief or something."

"Vince." Howard stared deep into his eyes. "You're… you're my everything. You're the answer to all my questions. I want to be with you. All the time. Forever."

Vince sniffed again, and threw his arms around Howard's neck, hugging him tightly. "I love you. I love you. I think I've always loved you" he murmured.

Howard ruffled Vince's hair affectionately. "C'mon little man, let's get you home."

"I am home" replied Vince, breaking apart from the hug, smiling softly. Howard looked over Vince's shoulder and noticed that their revelations had drawn a bit of an audience; a small crowd of passers-by, watching with smiles on their faces. A few girls caught his eye and clapped excitedly, giving Howard very enthusiastic thumbs up. Hearing one of them say "about time!" over the buzz of the crowd, he grinned at Vince, who giggled shyly, and the two of them started walking towards the tube station.

The rain pelted down from above, illuminated in the street lights and showering the city in silver. Vince's hand was warm in his own. Howard's heart was singing with delight. They had so much time to catch up on. He stopped to wipe a raindrop from Vince's nose.

_This,_ he thought. _This is the kind of magic I could get used to._

**-- The End --**


End file.
